Now she was beside me helping other women come home.
My grandfather’s land had done more than shelter me.
It gave us a place to rebuild our relationship.
That was worth more than any developer’s offer.
Patch lived until I was fifty-four.
Eight years after he followed me into the cave.
He became the unofficial guardian of Ridge House.
Everyone loved him.
He slept on porches.
Stole sandwiches.
Hated thunderstorms.
When he became sick, Lily and I took him to the vet.
The diagnosis was bad.
We brought him home.
He died on my porch.
His head in my lap.
I buried him near the oak trees above the cave.
His marker says.
PATCH.
FOUND ME FIRST.
I still miss him.
Especially at sunrise.
Sometimes I think back to the morning behind the chapel.
Two strays watching each other.
Neither knowing a hill was waiting.
Ten years after my release, Cedar Valley invited me to speak at a reentry forum.
