The woman in the window seat beside me was reading a guidebook and circling cafés with a pen.
Across the aisle, an old man snored before takeoff.
Somewhere near the back, a child laughed at nothing.
Ordinary and peaceful sounds.
The captain made the usual announcement.
I smiled and kept typing.
That was when I understood something I wish I had known much earlier: the opposite of heartbreak is not finding someone new as quickly as possible.
It is returning to you.
Daniel did not destroy me.
He revealed the parts of my life I had left waiting in the wings while I built everything around being his wife.
And once the wreckage settled, there I was.
Still whole enough to begin again.
The plane lifted into the sky, and sunlight poured across my tray table. I opened my journal and wrote the first line of a new entry.
