exhausted while both children sprayed him with garden hoses.
I laughed until tears came.
Then I put my phone away.
A year after the divorce, Daniel sent me a message.
I understand now how much you did.
I read it twice.
Then I deleted it.
Not because I hated him.
I didn’t.
That was the best part.
I had finally reached a place beyond anger.
I stood outside my small cabin in Colorado with coffee warming my hands while the mountains turned gold in the morning light.
Thirty years earlier,
