Chapter 8 - Foundations in the Sun
The move across the state felt like taking a long-overdue breath of fresh air. We settled into a quiet, coastal town where the air tasted of salt and the mornings were wrapped in a soft, calm fog. Our new home was a sun-drenched cottage with a sprawling backyard—a far cry from the cramped apartment where we had spent so many anxious months hiding from the world.
My studio downtown officially opened its doors a month later. The space had high ceilings, exposed brick, and massive windows that flooded the room with natural light. I hung Lily’s paintings on the main wall right beside my professional portfolio, treating her colorful watercolor suns with the same dignity as my corporate branding projects.
Client work came steadily. Word spread quickly about a dedicated designer who genuinely listened to small business owners trying to build their own dreams. For the first time in my career, I was compensated fairly for my craft, but more importantly, I controlled my own time. I set my schedule so I was always at the school gates by three o'clock, ready to hear about Lily’s day.
One afternoon, as we walked back from the beach with sand sticking to our toes, Lily looked up at me, squinting against the golden hour light.
"Mommy, are we going to stay here forever?" she asked, clutching a small bucket filled with sea glass.
May you like
"As long as you want to, sweet pea," I replied, squeezing her small hand.
She smiled, satisfied, and skipped ahead toward our front porch. There were no ghosts here. No lingering expectations, no heavy judgments waiting at the end of a phone line. We were building our life brick by brick, entirely on our own terms.
