Part 3:

The Oregon coast did not fix everything, but it revealed what had been damaged.

For seven days, Frank and I walked along gray waves, ate soup in little restaurants, watched gulls hover above Cannon Beach, and slept without waiting for someone else’s crisis. I missed the grandchildren. I truly did. But I also remembered the sound of my husband’s laugh, the shape of our quiet mornings, and the woman I had been before every family problem became mine to repair.

When we returned home, Cody did not call that night. I did not call him either.

Four days later, we spoke for twelve careful minutes. He said they had managed. I said I was glad. He did not apologize, and I did not ask for one. The conversation was not warm, but it was truthful, and truth was more useful than pretending nothing had happened.

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