and I sat together on our front porch.
The sun was setting behind the garden.
A soft breeze moved through the roses she’d planted years earlier.
She rested her head against my shoulder.
“Tom?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Thank you for bringing me back into our house that day.”
I looked at her.
The woman who had stood beside me for thirty-eight years.
Who had worked, sacrificed, raised our children, and helped turn an ordinary building into the center of our lives.
I squeezed her hand.
“Linda, you never stopped belonging here.”
