A beam of light in the darkest hour

That is what E's promise is. I'm at home after one of my killer days of back-to-back classes. I'm exhausted. Tomorrow, I have to sign off on court documents and I've been sweating all day, thinking about it. I don't want to make things worse by telling my truth, but I have to. I have an obligation to protect my daughter and defend her, but it isn't going to make it easier with my ex. To tell the truth, with him, has always been to risk rejection. Not that I expect anything else, now. I expect he'll deny everything I say to protect himself. Or he will attack me, to make himself look better. I know this, but I still don't want to have to deal with it.

At lease I have A and E and a future I can now see.

I look down at this brand new ring, this large bright stone that I can wear alongside the other ring . . . and I'm so grateful that E did what he originally wanted to, and that I didn't tear apart his past to create a future with him, but accepted our future on new terms with the past still a valued memory. It all means something like that to me now.

I can now be quite happy in picturing our future in a way I never could before. What makes the difference? He, I know, doesn't feel any differently, but I do. It means everything to me that he make this gesture at this particular time.