Chapter 6 - The Canvas of a New Life
Two years passed.
I bought a small, historic brick cottage in Savannah, Georgia—as far away from the gray Ohio winters and the ghosts of Bennett Street as I could get. The house had massive windows that let in the warm southern sunlight, a sprawling garden full of wild jasmine instead of manicured hydrangeas, and every single door inside had a brass lock that I chose myself.
My digital design studio, Unstitched, was thriving. I no longer made cheap glitter-font invitations for suburban moms. I designed branding for independent bookstores, cover art for poetry collections, and large-scale digital installations for modern art galleries.
My work was raw, honest, and full of bold, vibrant colors. The girls in cages were gone from my sketchbooks. Now, I drew wide-open skies, shattering glass that looked like diamonds, and women running toward the horizon with fire in their eyes instead of smoke in their lungs.
It was a quiet Tuesday evening when the doorbell rang.
I opened it to find Maya standing on the porch, holding two large suitcases and a massive box of fresh pastries from the bakery downtown. She had officially passed the bar exam the week before, and she was moving to Savannah to partner with a local civil rights firm.
"Tell me you have coffee ready," she said, dropping her bags and throwing her arms around me.
"Always," I laughed, buried in her familiar, warm hug.
We sat on my screened-in back porch that night, drinking wine and listening to the cicadas hum in the live oak trees. The air smelled of salt water and jasmine, clean and sweet.
"I saw an update from Ohio today," Maya said softly, looking over the rim of her glass. "The property on Bennett Street was sold. A young couple bought the lot. They're tearing down the remaining foundation and building a community garden."
I felt a strange, beautiful lightness wash over my chest. A garden. Life growing out of the ash. "That’s perfect," I said. "That’s exactly what should happen to it."
"Are you happy, Caitlyn?" she asked, her voice quiet, filled with the deep, protective love of a friend who had seen me at my absolute lowest point.
May you like
I looked around my porch. At the mess of paintbrushes on the table, the beautiful, chaotic life I had built with my own two hands, and the absolute peace that settled into the quiet corners of my mind every single night.
"Yeah," I smiled, and for the first time in my life, the smile didn't feel like a mask. It didn't feel forced. "I really, truly am."
