“And then,” I said, “we have Elliot and Linda over for dinner next week.”
Natalie paused, then smiled. “I think I’d like that.”
As I stood by the back door and looked out over the messy patch of torn-up grass, I felt something unexpected — not regret, not frustration, but a quiet sort of gratitude.
Not every hole leads to gold.
Sometimes, it leads to a person. A story. A connection.
And maybe that’s a treasure all its own.
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