She didn’t think much of the house when she first moved in, twenty years ago. The porch sagged a little, the pines grew a little too close, and the river seemed too near—what if it flooded? The long road to the house was dirt, and it was easy to get stuck after a hard rain. She’d hear the call of a mountain lion sometimes, late into the day, and she wondered what became of it at night. These thoughts ran through her mind like the fast-moving river not far from her back doorway.

Ingrid worked diligently on her art, her hands painting what her heart felt, and what she might sing if she found the right voice. Sometimes she’d gather small stones from the river’s edge to incorporate into her work, and other times she gathered feathers from her yard.

Once a month or so, she’d load her paintings into her old, green VW Bug that still ran just fine—how she made everything fit into one trip, Ingrid was never sure. She’d drive down the uneven dirt road, turn left onto the blacktop, and head south for several miles until she reached town. Molly’s Truths and Finds was one of the first shops tourists saw when they approached Blue Bird from that direction. Ingrid would park at the back, and within a couple of minutes, a young boy with long, braided hair and a straw hat, Tommy, would come out to help unload her work. Tommy, about sixteen, spent his summers at his aunt and uncle’s shop. He was from New York—a place that seemed a million miles away from where Ingrid stood.

Ingrid pulled her phone out of her purse. With no reliable service at her place, this was the only time she knew what was going on. Dane had texted her over half a dozen times, as had Carrie. Ingrid’s eyes filled as she read the texts. She hurried into Molly’s Truths and Finds, collected the always-waiting check, exchanged a few pleasantries with Molly and Mick, and then got into her car.

She pulled onto the main road, stopped at the nearby gas station, and texted Dane, letting him know she’d be there shortly. And off Ingrid went.

Everything was going to be different. And that was OK. But what would it be like, and why hadn’t someone driven out to her place to let her know?

Dane and Carrie lived atop the mountain, about four miles from Blue Bird. Dane taught at the local school, and Carrie ran their B&B—busy by mid-summer, quiet in winter.

As Ingrid pulled into their driveway, her heart beat harder, thundering against her chest. She wished Tom were here. He’d been gone over twenty years, and with his death, Ingrid had retreated into the mountains. Life was never going to be the same. And it wasn’t. Tom hadn’t just died—he was killed, an end to life as Ingrid once knew.

Flashbacks. They were laughing, singing, and dancing on a beach in Italy. He was her best friend. It was a good life. A few years later, Dane came along. There was a dog, two cats, and a goat named Tinker.

“Mom?” Dane stood by Ingrid’s car, opening her door. “I’ve missed you, Mom.” He helped her out, giving her a hug. “We should have gotten word to you sooner. Come on in.”

Ingrid wasn’t sure what she felt when she first saw Carrie holding the baby—wonder, joy, a mix of everything like an old family recipe with too many ingredients to distinguish. Carrie placed the baby into Ingrid’s arms, and at that moment, Ingrid melted.

The baby was beautiful. A miracle. Ingrid started to cry.

“You’re a grandma, can you believe it?” smiled Dane. “Her name’s Emma, named after Grandma.”

Silence followed. Ingrid carefully held the sleeping baby.

“Thank you for making me a grandmother,” she whispered. Then, she remembered Carrie and asked how she was feeling, and what she could do to help.

The next few hours flew as Ingrid helped with the baby and prepared dinner for them all.  Joy flooded Ingrid’s soul.

New life makes one rethink many things. And that’s what was going through Ingrid’s mind. There was a baby now. Her house across Blue Bird seemed a million miles away.

“We wish you’d come down to Blue Bird more often, Mom. You live too far out.  And communication isn’t the best. Cell service is terrible. I’ve been asking you to move closer for years now. Isn’t it time?” Dane didn’t expect his mom to answer.

Ingrid thought of her house, the sagging porch, and the river that might flood. She thought of the mountain lions. She thought of her paintings and how she felt free painting on the porch in good weather, by the fireplace in winter, listening to the wind whistle. She had grown to love the house, but it was just a house.

Home is where your heart is. It doesn’t have to be by a river, as nice as it might seem. Home used to be with Tom. In many ways, he was still with her; she carried his memory every day.

Possibilities. Always possibilities. Ingrid wasn’t sure what they were, but there was always an answer. It might not come when we want, but answers come.

Change could be good. Emma was here. Maybe it was time to move. Get a dog, a cat again. Maybe even a goat.

The little family sat outside till dusk turned into night, the sky filling with a million twinkle-lights. Dane smiled as he lit the gas firepit as if anticipating what his mother might be thinking. Ingrid thought a gas firepit wasn’t like a real wood fire, but after a while, she saw the beauty and warmth.

Sometimes living in the woods, by a river, feels right. It heals, but deep memories hurt, and more change can be good.

Living in the woods can make you realize how close the trees are, how much you’ve been running away, and how far you still need to go. The road is long, muddy, and rocky, with wilderness all around. It can get lonely.

But it’s okay to choose an easier path. It’s okay to be near the forest, without living in its depths. Give yourself permission to make life simpler.

These thoughts filled Ingrid’s mind under the May stars. There were decisions to be made, but the best part of today was meeting Emma.

Life was good.