“I think we can arrange that,” he said, stepping aside to let me pass. As I moved through the crowd, I felt the eyes on me, not with the weight of judgement, but with a newfound respect. My father walked beside me, his arm draped over my shoulders, a proud smile on his face.
“Let’s get you that drink,” he said, leading me towards the cooler where the ice was slowly melting. “And maybe after, you can tell me some of those stories.”
I smiled, feeling the tension of the past year slip away. “Maybe I will,” I said, enjoying the simple pleasure of being home.
And just like that, the world slipped back into motion, the chatter and laughter returning to the backyard, now infused with a new understanding and an unspoken promise of stories yet to be shared.
