Chapter 10 - The Lake Erie Sunset
The sun was beginning to set over the western shore of Kelley’s Island, painting the sky in breathtaking shades of deep violet, brilliant crimson, and shimmering gold.
We sat on the wide wooden porch of the cottage—the same porch where eight months ago Evan had stood with my packed suitcase, telling my friends I was confused, overtired, and coming home.
Tonight, the cottage was filled with warmth.
A small fire crackled in the stone firepit on the lawn. Ryan was grilling dinner on the patio, while Megan and Chloe were gathering smooth beach stones near the water’s edge.
I sat in a wooden rocking chair, holding my father’s 1972 Gibson Les Paul guitar across my lap.
I hadn't played in twenty years. Evan had always complained that my strumming was 'distracting' when he was trying to review commercial prospectuses in the evening.
I adjusted the wooden tuning pegs, listening as the steel strings came into perfect pitch.
Marcy and Leah stepped out onto the porch, carrying glasses of iced tea, and sat down on the bench beside me.
“Play it, Claire,” Leah said quietly, resting her head against the porch railing.
I rested my fingers against the fretboard. My hands didn't shake. My mind didn't wander. I felt completely grounded, completely peaceful, completely whole.
I struck the first chord.
The rich, warm, golden notes of “Lake Erie Sunset” echoed out across the quiet water, floating through the evening air, joining the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the stone shore.
My granddaughter ran up the wooden steps, sitting flat on the porch floor at my feet, her chin resting in her hands, looking up at me with pure wonder.
I opened my mouth and began to sing.
My voice wasn't quiet. It wasn't hesitant. It was strong, clear, and full of forty years of lived truth, echoing far out over the dark blue lake, carrying straight into the bright, endless sky.
I was sixty-three years old.
May you like
I was no longer confused. I was no longer overtired.
I was finally, beautifully, home.
