The roses I had planted along the front porch were blooming.
And for the first time in years, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Peace.
I had spent seven years building that peace.
Seven years rebuilding my life after a painful divorce.
Seven years working overtime, skipping vacations, and sacrificing almost everything to buy the little white house that sat at the end of a quiet street outside Raleigh.
It wasn’t a mansion.
It wasn’t fancy.