I step outside, and the door clicks shut behind me with finality. Each step down the driveway is like leaving a part of myself behind, but also like taking my first steps toward some fragile form of freedom. The bag swings lightly at my side, digging into my shoulder. I’m not just carrying the belongings I can’t leave behind. I’m carrying the memories of her love, her laughter, and the way she lit up my life.
With the stars scattered above me like the pieces of everything I have lost, I step further into the darkness, with Rosie’s absence walking beside me. My legs are unsteady, worn down from too many nights with a bottle and too many mornings wishing I hadn’t woken up.
For the first time since her passing, I feel the emptiness of her loss without being completely consumed by it. I don’t know where I’m going, but right now the destination doesn’t matter.
December 22nd
Dear Music,
Easton has been hard at work on his next album for a couple of months, and watching him pour himself into it has been something I can’t fully describe. Day and night, he’s spent hunched over his guitar, scribbling lyrics, adjusting chords, and mumbling melodies under his breath. He’s completely absorbed, creating something big for this next release. And through all that work, he’s managed to capture pieces of our life, of us, in a way that makes my heart swell beyond measure.
The first time I saw thealbum cover and read the title—Where My Wild Rose Grows—I cried. Quiet, shaky tears, the kind that sneak out before you even realize, because the title itself is a reflection of everything we’ve grown together: love, chaos, laughter, and tiny victories.
But the tears I shed over the title? They were nothing compared to the moment I heard the lyrics to the final track: Build This Life With You. Listening to it, I felt every year, every struggle, every triumph we’ve shared distilled into music. The words wrapped around my heart and didn’t let go:
I built this life with you, board by board, heart by heart,
From late-night talks to brand-new starts,
Now the rooms are fillin’ up with laughter and truth,
Little hands, big dreams comin’ into view,
Every bit of love we grew —
Yeah, I built this life with you.
I sat there, stunned, tears streaming down my face, realizing that he’s not just singing about us—he’s singing aboutourfuture. A family. Our family. Little hands, big dreams,and rooms full of laughter—he’s imagining it all. Every note, every line, every pause felt like a gentle confession… He wants this life, all of it, with me, not just as his wife but as the mother of the children he dreams about.
I think I’ve always known, in the quiet corners of my heart, that this is what I wanted, too. But hearing it in his voice, in a song that carries everything he feels and believes, makes it real in a way nothing else could. He’s not just talking about love or comfort or partnership—he’s talking about legacy, about building a life that grows beyond the two of us.
And suddenly, the tiny apartment I started in, the Brentwood house we call home, the late nights and long tours—they all make sense. They’ve all been leading here, to this dream, this life…thisfamily.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so loved, so seen, or so certain. He’s not just promising me forever in words or rings—he’s promising it in life, in laughter, in little hands he wants to hold alongside mine. And I can’t imagine doing this with anyoneelse but him.
January 3rd
Dear Self-Doubt,
Easton is certain I’ll be an amazing mother.
And I… Well, I’m not so sure. I keep thinking about how I grew up—bouncing from one foster home to the next, never knowing what a “family” was supposed to look like. I don’t have anyone to model this after, no blueprint to follow, no guidebook, no instruction manual. Some nights, the thought of trying scares me more than I can say. What if I fail? What if I can’t give a child what they need? What if I’m not enough?
But Easton… he doesn’t need me to tell him my fears. He stared at me over coffee with this quiet confidence, knowing exactly what I’ve been thinking. I might doubt myself, but he hasn’t for a second.
He told me I have a heart so big that it’s a shame not to share it, that any child would be lucky to have me. He believes in me in ways I haven’t yet learned to believe in myself.
And maybe that’s enough to start. Maybelove, patience, and a big heart are all I really need to build a family. Easton and me… We’ll make it the kind of family I never dreamed ofhaving.
January 20th
Dear Baby,
It’s happening. Well… not quite yet. Tomorrow I’m going to my doctor to remove my birth control, and after that, we’re officially starting totry. Starting the part of our lives we’ve been dreaming about, imagining, planning for… The part where you finally exist.
I don’t even know how to put into words how much I’m going to love you. I’ve loved so many things in my life—Easton, our home, our little routines, the quiet moments in the middle of chaos—but none of it will compare to loving you. From the very first moment, you’ll have my whole heart, my constant attention, and every ounce of patience and awe and wonder I can possibly give you. I’ll celebrate every little milestone, cry over every tiny scrape, cheer for every accomplishment, and hold you close when the world feels too big or too scary.
You’re coming into a home that’s already bursting at the seams with love. Not justmine and Easton’s, but the extended family we’ve grown together. There’s room in our hearts for you in a way I didn’t think possible, and yet somehow, I know it will grow even bigger when you’re finally here. You’ll be safe, you’ll be cherished, and you’ll know every single day that you were wanted, dreamed of, and already so deeply loved before you even arrived.
