Chapter 15
PART 15 – The Oak Tree
Time is not a thief.
It is an architect.
It takes the wreckage of what you lost and uses it to build the house you eventually live in.
Clara was seventy.
David was seventy-two.
They sat on the back porch of the old house.
The same house where the sirens once wailed.
The same house where the silence once threatened to drown them.
It was autumn.
The large oak tree in the center of the yard was dropping golden leaves across the grass.
Under the tree, seven-year-old Julian was running in circles, chasing a golden retriever puppy.
His laughter rang out, clear and sharp in the crisp October air.
Clara watched him.
She watched his chest heave as he ran.
She watched him stop, take a deep, effortless gulp of air, and start running again.
David reached across the small wicker table.
He placed his wrinkled hand over hers.
Clara didn’t turn to look at him.
She kept her eyes on the boy in the yard.
“We did okay, didn’t we?” David murmured.
Clara thought of the hospital waiting room thirty years ago.
She thought of the crushing weight of the first year.
She thought of the hundred thousand inhalers.
She thought of Rosie’s stethoscope.
She squeezed David’s hand.
“We did more than okay,” Clara said softly.
Julian tripped over a tree root.
He tumbled into the grass.
For a fraction of a second, the world paused.
Then, Julian popped back up.
He brushed the dirt off his knees.
He took a breath.
And he kept running.
Clara smiled.
She leaned back in her chair.
She closed her eyes.
She felt the cool autumn breeze against her face.
She breathed in.
Deep.
Full.
May you like
Unbroken.
And she exhaled.
