Chapter 9 - Spring CleaningBy April, the snow had melted away, leaving behind rich, damp earth ready for planting.
I spent my Saturdays outside in our new backyard, turning over the soil in the garden beds while my daughter chased butterflies across the lawn in a yellow sundress with little daisies embroidered along the hem.
My business administration classes were progressing brilliantly. I had maintained a 4.0 GPA through the winter semester, and my accounting professors frequently called on me to assist with complex asset-tracking simulations. The analytical mind that had once been used to stretch ground beef with lentils was now dissecting corporate balance sheets and financial models with professional precision.
I wasn't just surviving anymore; I was thriving.
One afternoon, while cleaning out the hallway storage closet, I came across a cardboard box labeled Dover Move-In Remnants. Inside were old textbooks, tangled phone chargers, and a battered, dust-covered plastic storage bin containing miscellaneous electronics.
At the bottom of the bin sat the hand-me-down tablet.
The screen was dark, completely drained of battery life long ago. The little orange fox with the white belly and the crooked grin was still there, peeling slightly at the top left corner, exactly as it had been the day Edmund brought it home like a prize.
I picked it up, feeling the cool plastic casing in my hand.
For a brief second, I thought about plugging it in, just to see if the financial portal app was still cached, or if the ghost of that six-hundred-thousand-dollar balance was still lingering in the deep memory cache.
Then I smiled, walked out to the garage, and tossed the tablet directly into the heavy black recycling bin, right on top of a pile of old cardboard boxes.
I didn't need the tablet anymore. The numbers were safe in our new bank accounts, securely managed under my own name, earning honest interest and funding a future built on truth rather than deception.
My daughter ran into the garage, her bare feet pattering against the concrete floor, holding a dandelion she had picked from the lawn.
“Mummy, look! A flower!” she shouted, holding it up proudly.
I knelt down, brushing a smudge of dirt from her cheek, and took the delicate yellow flower from her small hand.
“It’s beautiful, peanut,” I whispered, kissing her forehead. “The smartest flower in the yard.”
May you like
She giggled, throwing her arms around my neck and burying her face in my shoulder.
As I held her close, feeling the steady, healthy rhythm of her heartbeat against mine, I looked out the open garage door toward the bright spring sunshine warming our front yard. The road ahead was wide, clear, and entirely our own.
