The next morning, I packed a small bag, locked the front door, and walked to the silver sedan. For a moment, I rested my hand on the steering wheel and let the morning light warm my face.
Then I started the engine.
I drove toward the coast, windows cracked open, watching the road stretch ahead like a promise. When the sun rose over the water, I pulled over and stepped out barefoot onto the sand.
I was not only a widow.
I was not only a mother.
I was a woman who had finally, truly, come home to herself.
