Florence was right about one thing, on that porch.

Once I was out on my own, I did learn how much it takes to build an independent life.

What she never understood was that I’d also learn precisely how much I was worth.

And whenever anyone asks me now when my new life really began, I never point to the divorce, or the day I took the job.

It began on a quiet night in front of a locked bedroom door, watching a man everyone had written off find the strength to move his foot a few centimeters across a sheet — and realizing that starting over doesn’t mean running away fast.

Sometimes it just means finding enough strength, at last, to stand back up on your own two feet.