Our happy kitty waltzes back and forth, rubbing against my fuzzy robe and smothering it in fur. “Oh, Millie, what are we going to do with you?”
“She’s naughty,” Quinn says.
“Hey, good job on thattsound. Naughty is a tricky word to say! Especially with a missing top tooth.” I nudge her.
She grins, showing off an adorable gap in her smile. Quinn had her one-year evaluation for speech therapy the other day. A test that showed tremendous progress since she first started. We still have several years before any kind of auditory processing evaluation, but I know when it’s time, we’ll tackle that in the same way we have this—together.
Her growth has been healing for Everett. Where he once used to avoid her sessions, he makes a point to attend them whenever he can now. His desire to learn and be the best communicator as a dad and a significant other has inspired me to do the same. Empowered me to explain why it was important that I have my own career after I moved here.
It’s more than wanting to take care of myself. I’m no longer afraid of relying on another man to support me when I know I can do it on my own. This is about needing something for me. Something that provides purpose and meaning in my life outside of the people that I love.
I have an interview next week with the Boys & Girls Club as their Youth Development Associate. I loved my time with Emma at her law firm, but nothing compared to the talent show experience at Be the Brave. This job would be an opportunity to lead a group of youth again. To plan creative activities and encourage their personal growth. I’m excited and hopeful for what this position might look like. Crossing my fingers that they’ll overlook the one to two years of experience they were asking for in a candidate with the letter of recommendation I acquired.
I still can’t believe that Brian wrote it.
To Whom It May Concern,
I’m writing to wholeheartedly recommend Summer Rogers for the position of Youth Development Associate at your Boys & Girls Club. As the former principal of six years at Be the Brave Elementary, I had the pleasure of having Summer Rogers volunteer as the director of our school’s spring play. She stepped in last-minute for afaculty member who was unable to complete the assignment and went above and beyond in making the production a success for both students and community alike.
In five short weeks, she created an entire interactive talent show to showcase the strengths of the children under her care. She was praised by both parents and staff alike for her positive influence and the self-confidence she developed in the children she worked with. She is enthusiastic, creative, encouraging, talented, and would make an incredible asset to any part of your program.
Hiring her would be the best thing you could do for your youth.
If you have any additional questions, please feel free to contact me. Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Brian Rogers
College Admissions Advisor - Boise State University
“Let’s plant them!” Quinn says, dragging the closest plastic pot toward the grass. I dismiss the mental distraction of Brian’s letter like it’s a hat I can shake off.
“Let’s do it!” I tighten the crisscrossed lapels of my robe where they gaped open and stand up. My hand meets something in my pocket when I tuck it inside.
I’m busy fishing out an envelopewhen Everett says, “Why don’t we let Mommy open her last present and get dressed while we start digging some holes.”
I lift the flap on the manilla pouch I pulled out and unearth two ticket stubs with barcodes on one end.
“All-American Road Show, backstage pass to… CHRIS STAPLETON?!” I gape at a backward-stepping Everett carrying two peony plants as he winks at me.
“We go way back too, baby.”
“We’re here!”
The sound of Caroline’s voice carries up the staircase as I slick a coat of lip gloss on. She’s gotten much better at respecting boundaries now that I’ve moved in. But she still waltzes through the front door without a knock when she arrives.
“Coming!”
I pull on my rhinestone cowgirl boots and swipe a gift bag off the dresser. Quinn’s already dragging her grandparents into the backyard to show off her hard work by the time I make it downstairs.
“What beautiful flowers!” Caroline gushes.
“I know, right? I’m so lucky to have this little gardener here.” I knock into Quinn’s hip with my knee, but she’s too busy stalking a certain ball of orange fur dashing around the backyard.
“I got my eye on you, Millie.” Quinn shakes her finger at our cat.
“I take it she’s been naughty today,” Wade says.
