I didn't answer.
Some apologies deserve to be acknowledged, but they don't always require reconciliation.
A year after discovering the mysterious bottle, I moved to a small house near Helen.
There was a sunny kitchen, a humble garden and enough shelves for my beloved books.
I started working twice a week as a volunteer in a children's reading program.
One morning, a little girl handed me a book.
Will you help me read this?
I smiled.
“Of course, honey.
When we read together, I felt something I had been missing for a long time.
I felt like Margaret again.
Not like the wife of a rich man.
Not like a study participant. She was no longer the person whose future was decided by others.
She was just a woman who loved to teach and before whom life was still full of meaning.
One evening, after working in the garden, I prepared myself a warm drink.
Milk, honey, cinnamon and a little vanilla.
Stirring, I stopped for a moment.
I remembered Daniel standing in the kitchen.
A dark bottle.
Questions he didn't want to answer.
How he insisted that his decisions always serve my good.
I looked around my own house.
No one questioned my judgment.
Nobody forced me
