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It was just making room.
For this.
For him.
For all of it.
The medal ceremony is a blur of tears and anthem and metal cool against my skin.
The gold sits heavy around my neck.
Heavy enough to mean something.
And when the anthem ends and the cameras start flashing and the whole world wants our smiles, I turn my face just enough to find him one more time in the stands.
Still there.
Still on fire for me.
And all I can think is:
I got the medal.
I got the guy.
And somehow, impossibly, life was generous enough to let me earn them both.
