Chapter 12: A New House, A New Life

Six months later, I moved into a small house near town.

It had two bedrooms, a modest kitchen, and a porch that faced a row of maple trees.

I planted roses along the front walkway.

I bought a new quilt.

I hung photographs of my children on the walls.

And I started working more hours at the pharmacy.

At first, I hated the quiet.

I had spent forty-one years listening to Jim’s footsteps in the hallway.

His cough in the morning.

His television in the evening.

The sound of his truck pulling into the driveway.

Now there was only me.

But slowly, I began to enjoy it.

I went to church with my sister.

I took long walks.

I learned to cook smaller meals.

I bought myself a comfortable chair and read books in the evenings.

I stopped checking the clock to see whether Jim would be home.

One morning, Linda at the pharmacy handed me a cup of coffee.

“You look different,” she said.

I smiled.

“Different how?”

“Like you finally have room to breathe.”

I looked at the cup.

Maybe she was right.

I had spent so many years taking care of everyone else that I had forgotten what it felt like to take care of myself.

And I was beginning to understand that starting over at sixty-four wasn’t the end of my life.

It was simply a new chapter.

CLICK HERE CONTINUE TO READ>>Chapter 13: The Little Boy at the Pharmacy