here,” she remarked on our fifth evening as we sat on the porch with glasses of iced tea. “Not just with the property, but with yourself. You’re different.”
“Different how?” I asked.
“More present,” she said after careful consideration. “For decades, you’ve been partially absent from your own life—always anticipating someone else’s needs, always adjusting your responses to manage others’ emotions.”
“Now, you’re fully here—inhabiting your moments rather than merely servicing them.”
The insight struck with quiet precision.
Throughout my marriage, single motherhood, and subsequent years, I had lived in
