She had died before she could be born.
I never spoke about her much afterward.
The grief had been too tender.
Thomas continued.
You said that every person should have one place in the world where they can close the door, sit down, and know they will not be asked to earn the right to stay.
My shoulders shook.
I remembered.
I had been crying at the kitchen table.
Thomas held me for hours.
You probably thought I forgot.
I didn’t.
Every board in that house, every window, every stone in the fireplace was chosen because I wanted to give you that place.
I bought the surrounding land when I could because I didn’t want a developer coming along one day and destroying the peace around it.
I arranged the conservation proposal because I wanted you to have a choice that didn’t depend on selling your home.
