I could welcome people who treated me kindly and turn away those who didn’t.

I could build a life that wasn’t organized around proving I deserved to stay.

I heard a bird calling from the apple tree.

The kitchen window caught the early light.

I stood and walked to the front door.

On the inside of the doorframe, faint pencil marks still showed where Grandpa had measured my height each birthday.

The lowest mark was barely three feet from the floor.

The highest was made the year I graduated high school.