Though it’s not lost on me that if Erika were here, I wouldn’t be. I’d be an interloper. My stomach plummets when I realize it. And then guilt lashes for enjoying this moment at all—a moment that should have been hers. Maybe she wouldn’t like this? Maybe it’s just me who loves this? My quiet spot on the quiet side of the mountain. With Milo. And, well, my husband.
