My hands remembered how to measure a space, match light to a plant, and listen to a client describing the garden they wanted to sit in when life felt difficult.

“You’re good at this,” Eva said one afternoon.

“I used to be.”

“You still are.”

I pinned a drawing to the wall.

For years I had been told that my greatest contribution was staying quiet and looking polished at somebody else’s dinner table.

Watching Eva use my design in a proposal reminded me that those years hadn’t erased everything I knew.

I wrote three names on a sticky note and tucked it into my notebook.