The place my children still associated with their father.
Marlene looked toward my bedroom window.
Our eyes met.
And she smiled.
She wanted me awake.
She wanted me watching.
“MOMMY, WHAT’S THAT NOISE?”
A small voice came from behind me.
My daughter stood in the hallway rubbing her eyes.
“What’s happening?”
I forced myself not to break down.
“Go back to your room.”
She looked toward the window.
“Mom?”
“Wake your brothers and sister.”
I kept my voice calm.
“Stay together upstairs.”
“I’ll handle it.”
She hesitated.
Then obeyed.
I watched her leave.
And something inside me changed.
Every apology.
Every complaint about my decorations.
My roses.
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My children.
Every time I had made myself smaller just so Marlene wouldn’t create another problem—
all of it ended at that window.
I grabbed my phone.
Then went outside.
“NOW I’LL FINALLY GET SOME PEACE!”
I ran barefoot across the patio.
