I didn’t need to.
The most important evidence was all around me.
The new lock on the front door.
My name on the mortgage statement.
My office still painted soft green.
The quiet upstairs hallway where nobody had moved in because somebody else decided they deserved my space.
And the dining table where, after lunch, Madison left a few crumbs beside her empty plate before asking if she could go see the lilac bush.
“Of course,” I said.
She ran toward the back door with Tyler behind her.
Bethany remained at the table.
“Sally?”
I looked at her.
“I’m sorry it took Dad throwing that glass for me to understand what we were doing to you.”
I let the words sit between us.
Then I nodded.
“Me too.”
There was no triumphant speech after that.
No dramatic declaration that I had won.
I hadn’t wanted a victory over my family.
I had wanted one sentence to be enough.
No.
It should have been enough before Easter.
It was enough now.
