In June, we broke ground on our first housing project, and I watched my new partners speak to the future residents. I felt a sense of peace as I stood in the dirt with coffee in my hand.
My grandfather was right that building a life is just a series of choices about what to support and what to reinforce. I had stopped carrying Simon’s weight and finally redistributed it correctly.
I walked into my apartment and placed my keys on the table my grandfather had sanded fifty years ago. There was no applause or witnesses, but for the first time in a long time, I felt exactly like myself.
THE END.
