and the people who tried to make me feel small. That isn’t just blood, Ivan. That is love.”
I squeezed her hand, unable to speak through the sudden lump in my throat.
Over the months that followed, the house on the hill returned to life.
The garden beds were cleared and replanted with fresh winter perennials.
The kitchen filled again with the smell of roasted chicken, fresh bread, and hot tea.
Neighbors stopped by on weekends, bringing fruit pies and catching up on porch conversations interrupted during her illness.
My
