CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 37: THE RECITAL
Ella's piano recital arrived on a warm June evening.
She had been practicing for weeks.
"I'm nervous," she admitted.
I knelt in front of her.
"That's okay."
"What if I mess up?"
I smiled.
"Then you'll be human."
She considered that.
"I guess that's not so bad."
At the auditorium, our whole family filled an entire row.
My father.
Samantha.
My mother.
Me.
Sunny the puppy wasn't allowed inside, which seemed to offend him deeply.
When Ella walked onto the stage, she looked terrified.
Then she saw us.
She saw all of us.
And she smiled.
The music wasn't perfect.
She missed a few notes.
One part was too fast.
Another was too slow.
It didn't matter.
By the end, everyone was clapping.
My mother was crying.
Again.
She cried a lot these days.
"She was wonderful," she whispered.
I nodded.
"She really was."
After the recital, Ella ran toward us.
"Did you hear the mistake in the middle?"
"No," my mother said immediately.
"Yes, you did."
"Nope."
Ella laughed.
Then she looked around.
Her smile widened.
"Everybody came."
I followed her gaze.
She was right.
Everybody had come.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Because there had once been a time when I thought this family would never sit in the same room again.
And yet here we were.
A little broken.
A little scarred.
But together.
As we walked home under the evening sky, my mother took my hand.
"This," she whispered, "is what I thought I had lost."
I squeezed her fingers.
"You didn't lose it."
"No?"
May you like
I smiled.
"You just had to find your way back."
