CHAPTER 27
My daughter turned five,
a milestone that marked the end of her toddler years and the beginning of her school life.
We threw a real birthday party in the backyard,
inviting her friends from preschool,
Sarah's children,
and several neighbors.
The yard was decorated with colorful balloons,
streamers,
and a large banner bearing her name in bright letters.
There was music,
laughter,
and the sound of children running across the grass,
playing games of tag and hide-and-seek.
I watched them from the porch,
holding a plate of cake,
feeling a deep,
overflowing happiness in my heart.
This was the childhood I had fought for,
a life filled with noise,
mess,
friendship,
and unadulterated joy.
She blew out the candles on her cake,
making a wish with her eyes tightly closed,
surrounded by people who loved her for exactly who she was.
When the guests left,
and the yard returned to its quiet state,
she sat on the grass,
surrounded by her new books and toys.
"This was the best day ever,
Mommy,"
she said,
looking up at me with tired,
happy eyes.
"I'm glad,
my love,"
I said,
sitting beside her,
pulling her into my lap,
breathing in the scent of sun and sweat from her hair.
"You deserve the best days."
We sat together as the twilight deepened,
the fireflies beginning to blink in the garden bushes.
I realized that the memories of the old house were no longer the first things I thought of when I looked at her.
They had been replaced by a thousand beautiful moments like this one,
crowding out the darkness with an abundance of light.
The ledger of our lives was firmly in the black,
filled with wealth that couldn't be counted in bank accounts or marble countertops.
We were rich in peace,
rich in safety,
May you like
and rich in love,
the only currencies that truly mattered.
