Marlowe
By mid-morning, half the found family had descended on the homestead's back fields, baskets and shears in hand, the whole property alive with laughter and purposeful, chaotic motion that felt considerably warmer than any professionally arranged floral display could have managed.
"These are gorgeous," Marla said, kneeling among a cluster of wild daisies with more genuine, easy joy than I'd seen from her in months. "I haven't done anything like this since I was a girl."
I knelt beside her, gathering my own handful of stems, sun warm on my back despite the storm clouds still visible, distant and threatening, along the far horizon.
"Thank you," I told her, "for being here. For all of this, honestly, the vow renewal, everything. I know it's an enormous amount happening all at once."
