It was not the place she had gone because her marriage had ended.
It was the place she chose because she needed to hear her own thoughts again.
For the first time in years, Emily made decisions without first calculating Mark’s reaction.
She joined a Saturday morning book club.
She began working remotely two afternoons each week for the nonprofit where she had been a project coordinator before the pregnancy.
She took long walks with the triple stroller and became locally famous at the neighborhood coffee shop.
“Three?” strangers constantly asked.
Emily learned to smile.
“Three.”
“You must have your hands full.”
“I do.”
But increasingly, full did not feel the same as overwhelmed.
Her life was full.
Full of bottles.
Full of laundry.
Full of sisters and grandmothers and neighbors dropping off soup.
Full of three babies who had begun recognizing one another.
And, cautiously, full of Mark.
