Page 31 of Hope After Loss

She squeals.

“Playing and being cute? You got this,” I quip.

As I set her back into her playpen, I notice more additions to the office.

I stop and look at the pots that Anna has lined up on the windowsill.

“Are those houseplants?” I ask.

“Yeah, I thought they’d make the space a little more cheery. Besides, they’re good for you,” she explains.

“I know. Inside plants increase creativity and reduce air pollutants. Agricultural chemist, remember?” I state.

“Right. They also boost your mood and reduce stress. Just what every working environment needs.”

“Houseplants and a water cooler. Next, I’m going to walk in, and you’re going to have installed an espresso machine,” I muse.

“Nah, I’ll leave that to Ansley, but you might find a new rug and some bright curtains,” she retorts.

“You can do whatever you want.”

“Oh, be careful telling a woman she has carte blanche. You’re liable to walk in one day to freshly painted walls and hanging art.”

I chuckle. “As long as it isn’t any abstract crap.”

“Note to self: No O’Keeffe’s for Weston’s office,” she says as she pretends to jot it down on a Post-it.

I’ve spent the last four hours on a cultivator and seed drill to till and prep for the spring planting season. Luckily, the weather was kind to us today with sunny skies and mid-fifties temperature. If next week is as cooperative, we could be ahead of schedule by the end of the month.

As I approach the door to the office to grab a bite to eat, I hear a high-pitched squeal.

I find Anna on the floor in front of her desk, her lunch spread out on the blanket beside her and her arms outstretched as Kaela toddles on her legs like a baby deer.

“Come on. You can do it,” she encourages.

Kaela raises her leg and then thinks better of it and brings it back to the blanket.

“Momma’s right here. You can make it.”

She hesitates for another moment, and then she raises her leg again and takes a step forward.

“That’s it. Come on,” Anna urges.

Two more wobbly steps, and Kaela falls into her mother’s waiting arms.

“You did it!” Anna cries.

She squeezes her daughter to her chest as tears begin to stream down her cheeks.

Kaela squirms to get loose.

“How about that?” I say.

Anna releases her and looks up at me. “She took her first steps.”

“I saw that.”

“Thank you so much, Weston!”