I checked my phone and saw messages from my neighbors wishing me a good morning and sharing recipes for the upcoming weekend. I also had notifications from my other grandchildren who lived across the country and who sent me videos telling me they loved me.
I got out of bed and put on my favorite pink workout outfit that I had bought during a shopping trip with Beverly last month. I even put on a little bit of makeup because my granddaughter had shown me how to do it during our weekly video calls.
I made a healthy breakfast of oatmeal with fresh fruit and enjoyed my black coffee while listening to my favorite classic songs. I ate peacefully at my small dining table while looking out at the garden in the backyard which was my favorite place in the world.
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At seven o’clock sharp, Beverly rang the doorbell because she always respected my home and my boundaries. She is sixty eight years old and she has lived alone in her own apartment for five years since her husband passed away.
“What on earth happened, Henrietta?” she asked with a worried expression as she stepped inside. I told her everything while I served her a fresh cup of coffee and explained how Randall had treated me like a child.
“And you actually told him to bring them over on Saturday?” she asked with a look of pure shock on her face. She expected me to have fought him or cried but I explained that I had learned there were much smarter ways to handle a conflict.
