Crushes were silly. But friendship? That was the kind of relationship that I’d begun to think I could handle.
After pizza and a reunion with Wayne, we stood back and watched Josh operate his own forklift, which was strangely hot.
The kids crashed hard shortly after, but I was still buzzing. It had been a good day. Minimal disagreements and a new project. Plus Julian had done really well with the car ride and the pumpkin. He hadn’t had one meltdown, and honestly, was more animated than I’d ever seen him.
I had to savor days like this. Reflect and wring out every good moment. Because there would be hard days, and when they came, I’d need these memories to keep myself going.
The best way to get rid of this kind of nervous energy was to work out, so I stepped into my sneakers and bangedout three sets of pushups on the porch, followed by planks and lunges.
I was considering which workouts would exhaust me the quickest when I realized I hadn’t gotten the mail today. Our mailbox was down at the end of the drive, about a quarter mile from our cottage, and I usually stopped when I drove into the farm after work or running errands, but we’d been in Josh’s truck today and out of our routine.
Surveying the house where all three kids slept, I reassured myself that it was okay to jog there and back. I could see the cottage the whole way, though not as well as I could from the hill where I typically ran.
So I took off, jogging down the gravel drive, smiling and laughing to myself about how incredible and hilarious my kids had been today.
Julian’s serious calculations, Maggie’s decoration ideas, and Ellie’s eye rolls. It had been a while since I’d seen them let loose and be themselves. If we stayed here, maybe it would happen more frequently. Maybe they’d eventually get comfortable and let their guard down.
I picked up the pace, and almost instantly, my lungs burned. I loved the sensation. It had been at least a decade since I’d run a race, but I’d recently started thinking about entering one. Having an event to train for was good motivation, and I’d like the kids to see me racing. I wanted to show them that a person could still set goals and do things even when they were, as Ellie constantly called me, elderly.
At the mailbox, I stopped, my breaths heaving in and out of my lungs, and pulled out a stack of what looked mostly like junk.
On the way back, I stuck to walking briskly as I sortedthrough it. It was dark, but the moon was bright enough that if I squinted, I could make out the print on the envelopes. Fliers and ads, my car insurance bill, a catalog, and a lime green envelope.
The scrolly, loopy handwriting caught my attention, and I came to a quick stop. It wasn’t printed. No, the words were in ink.
And it was addressed to me. At this address.
My chest tightened. No. It couldn’t be.
Heart thudding, I opened the envelope.
Inside was a cheery greeting card with cartoon animals on the front. Written inside, in a scratchy scrawl I’d never forget, it readFound You.
Vision tunneling, I dropped all the mail to the ground.
Every part of my body shook with panic. Nausea rolled through me, and I dropped to my knees, vomiting on the side of the driveway. I stayed there, head down, palms pressed to the gravel, for several minutes.
My mind spiraled, and only when a dog barked in the distance did I come back to the moment.
“Wayne,” a deep voice bellowed. “What are you doing?”
Wayne ran toward me, his paws hitting the driveway quickly and his tags gently clinking against his collar.
Then he was next to me, panting and whining.
I couldn’t move my head to look at him. Couldn’t lift a hand to pet him.
“Celine?” Another set of footsteps. “Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?”
Josh appeared in front of me, wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants. He was shirtless and barefoot, but I barely registered his presence.
“Are you sick?”
I nodded.
Wayne spun in a circle, barking, then sat beside me like a sentry.
“Sorry,” I croaked, finally forcing myself up onto my knees.
