Breath of Fresh Air

The next morning, I woke up in my childhood bedroom.

For a few moments, I just lay there staring at the ceiling.

The room looked almost exactly the same as it had years ago.

The same dresser.

The same photographs.

The same quilt folded neatly across the end of the bed.

The same feeling of comfort that only comes from being somewhere familiar.

Then reality slowly returned.

The date.

Jack.

The white rose.

The phone call with Chris.

The decision to move home.

Everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours came rushing back.

Oddly enough, I didn't feel panic.

I didn't feel regret.

I didn't feel fear.

What I felt was tired.

Not exhausted.

Just emotionally drained.

The kind of tired that comes after carrying something heavy for years and finally setting it down.

I rolled over and glanced at the clock.

8:17 a.m.

Much later than I normally slept.

I smiled.

Apparently, I needed it.

As I sat up, I noticed the white rose sitting in a vase on the dresser.

Mom must have put it there after I went upstairs.

The sight of it immediately brought a smile to my face.

I walked over and gently touched one of the petals.

Still perfect.

Still beautiful.

Then I laughed at myself.

"Get it together, Lela."

It was a flower.

Just a flower.

At least that's what I tried to tell myself.

A few minutes later, I pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and headed downstairs.

Before I even reached the bottom step, I heard my father's voice.

Actually, heard wasn't the right word.

The entire house heard my father's voice.

Dad was on the phone.

And based on the volume level, I assumed he was negotiating world peace.

"No, no, no, that's not what I'm saying!"

I started laughing.

Some things never changed.

I continued down the stairs.

"Listen to me for a second."

Pause.

"Would you stop interrupting me?"

Another pause.

"How can I explain it if you keep talking?"

I shook my head.

Poor client.

As I entered the kitchen, the scene looked exactly like something from my childhood.

Mom sat at the kitchen table wearing her reading glasses.

A cup of hot tea rested beside her.

The morning newspaper was spread out in front of her.

She looked completely calm.

Completely relaxed.

Completely unaffected by the tornado currently spinning around the kitchen.

Dad paced back and forth with a coffee mug in one hand and his phone in the other.

His voice echoed through the entire house.

Mom glanced up from the newspaper and smiled.

"Well, good morning."

I leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Good morning."

"Sleep okay?"

I smiled.

"Actually, yes."

Mom immediately noticed.

"I can tell."

I pulled out a chair and sat down.

Dad pointed at me while continuing his conversation.

"She's here."

I started laughing.

The client was probably wondering who exactly had arrived.

Mom shook her head.

"He hasn't stopped talking since seven."

"I believe it."

Dad looked at us.

"Hold on."

Then he pulled the phone away from his ear.

"How are you feeling?"

I laughed.

"Dad, aren't you working?"

"I can multitask."

"No, you can't."

Mom nearly spit out her tea laughing.

Dad pointed at her.

"Not helping."

Then he put the phone back to his ear.

"Sorry. My daughter came downstairs."

Pause.

"No, not your daughter. My daughter."

I buried my face in my hands.

Mom was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

Eventually Dad disappeared into his office, still talking.

Or yelling.

Possibly both.

The house finally became quiet.

Well, quiet for a few minutes.

Mom folded her newspaper and looked at me.

"So."

I immediately laughed.

"What?"

"How are you feeling today?"

I thought about it.

Honestly thought about it.

Because for the first time in a very long time, I wasn't exactly sure.

Relieved.

Sad.

Hopeful.

Scared.

Excited.

All of it seemed to exist at the same time.

"I don't know."

Mom smiled.

"That's okay."

I nodded.

For several moments we sat quietly.

Then I looked out the kitchen window toward the backyard.

The pool sparkled beneath the morning sunlight.

Crystal clear.

Inviting.

Suddenly, I felt restless.

Not anxious.

Restless.

Like I needed to move.

Needed to think.

Needed to clear my head.

I stood up.

Mom looked up.

"Where are you going?"

I shrugged.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

I walked toward the back door and looked outside.

The weather was perfect.

Warm sunshine.

Blue skies.

A slight breeze.

One of those beautiful mornings that practically begged you to be outdoors.

I turned back toward Mom.

"Do I go for a run?"

She smiled.

"Maybe."

I looked at the pool.

"Or do I swim laps?"

Mom laughed.

"Those are oddly specific options."

I smiled.

"Well, those are my two choices."

She took a sip of tea.

"Which one sounds better?"

I thought about it.

Running had always been my escape.

Whenever life became overwhelming, I ran.

Miles and miles.

Just me and my thoughts.

Swimming was different.

Swimming forced me to focus.

Breathing.

Movement.

Rhythm.

Everything else disappeared.

I looked back at the water.

Then toward the driveway.

Then toward the rose sitting in the vase on the counter.

My life felt like a giant question mark.

I had no idea what tomorrow looked like.

I had no idea how moving out would go.

I had no idea what Chris would say.

I had no idea what would happen with Jack.

For the first time in years, I genuinely didn't know what came next.

And strangely enough, that didn't terrify me.

It excited me.

Just a little.

Mom studied me.

Then smiled.

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think this is the first time in years you've actually had choices."

I looked at her.

She continued.

"For so long you've been doing what everyone else needed."

The room became quiet.

"What everyone else wanted."

More silence.

"What everyone else expected."

She smiled.

"But today?"

I waited.

"Today you get to decide."

The simplicity of her words hit me hard.

Because she was right.

Today wasn't about Chris.

It wasn't about work.

It wasn't about responsibilities.

Today was about me.

For the first time in a very long time.

I looked out at the pool again.

Then toward the street.

Then back at Mom.

A smile slowly appeared.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I think I'll do both."

Mom laughed.

"That's my girl."

And for the first time in years, I found myself genuinely looking forward to the day ahead.