There was no triumphant music, no applause, no moment when a judge announced that I had won my entire life back.

Outside, summer rain darkened the pavement.

I stood beneath the awning and watched families hurry toward their cars.

I thought of that other morning when I’d walked away with a suitcase and my baby.

I had been terrified then, yet too numb to recognize it fully.

Now I could name the fear, the grief, and the relief.

I called Marisol from the sidewalk.

“It’s done,” I told her.