Part 7 — Sarah
Sarah spent two nights in the hospital.
On the third morning, she was discharged.
When we returned home, she stood in the living room for a long time.
Her eyes moved toward the rug.
The stain had been professionally cleaned.
But she still remembered.
I put my arm around her.
“You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”
She looked at me.
“This is my home.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
She looked toward the kitchen.
“Where’s Michael?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
“He’s staying with a friend.”
She nodded.
“Is he okay?”
“He will be.”
She sighed.
“He’s still my son.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“But I don’t want to protect him from consequences anymore.”
I smiled.
“That is the strongest thing you’ve said all week.”
She leaned against me.
“I thought I was protecting him.”
“You were.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
She looked toward the window.
“I was protecting the little boy I remembered.”
I squeezed her hand.
“Sometimes we have to let our children become adults.”
She smiled sadly.
“Even when they become people we don’t recognize.”
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