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PARADISE KEY, FRIDAY AFTERNOON

The boat's deck swayed gently beneath me, a soothing motion that seemed to match the rhythm of my body. The endless expanse of turquoise water stretched before me, shimmering in the sun's warm rays. A gust of salty air brushed against my skin, carrying with it a sense of freedom and rejuvenation.

I settled into an empty seat, warmed by the sun, and pulled out a small notebook from my bag. It felt out of place in the middle of such vastness, but I opened it anyway, pen poised above the blank page.

"Hello, my new best friend," I whispered to the notebook, smiling as memories and thoughts flooded my mind.

I had recently taken up journaling upon a good friend’s advice. I had been stressed—too stressed for months, and I could feel it in my body. It was time for something new.

“Try journaling,” my friend Melissa said. “It has helped me a lot to generate structure of my thoughts when I’m stressed out.”

I thought, why not? Give it a try.

And now that I was finally having some much-needed time away from my hectic life as a mom and FBI agent, I was going to reconnect with my old friends from Washington and their children on a private island in the Keys for the weekend. It was one of my friend’s son—Mark’s—twentieth birthday, and as usual, his mother would celebrate with an extravagant party for us all. This year, she had invited everyone to their private island where they usually vacationed every summer.

The pen glided across the page, my handwriting flowing like waves:

'Find myself again. Breathe. Let go of FBI agent Eva Rae and embrace being just me.'

I paused, gazing out at the peaceful ocean. Memories of conversations and moments shared with old friends danced at the edges of my mind—those moments of pure understanding and belonging.

"Six years…" I murmured to the horizon.

It had been six years since life's current carried me away from Washington to Florida's embrace. And now, here I stood on the brink of reconnecting with those bonds. Anticipation fluttered within me, eager to soar as I prepared to rekindle old friendships.

Memories swirled in my head, drawing me into a warm eddy of the past. The yearly zoo trip—our laughter echoing through the aviary, children's faces alight with wonder at the kaleidoscope of birds in flight. Olivia, her small hand in mine, as we trailed behind the group.

"Look, Mommy!" Her voice rose above the din, pointing to a peacock fanning its jeweled tail.

"Beautiful, just like you," I'd said, squeezing her hand.

Those days were spun from gold, and we mothers were a tapestry of shared experiences, with our kids as the threads binding us tightly.

Guilt gnawed at me sometimes, uprooting Olivia from that rich garden of friendships. But life's winds don't ask before they blow you across the map. Florida's sun promised new blooms, even if nostalgia occasionally watered the flowers of yesteryear. I had never regretted moving back home. It was the right thing to do at the time.

A vibration in my pocket jolted me back to the present. I fished out my phone, thumb-swiping the screen to life. Olivia's name lit up the display.

"Can't wait to see you, Mom! The island is amazing!!" her text read, punctuated by a rainbow of emojis.

My heart did a little pirouette. "Me too, sweetheart," I whispered, thumbs tapping out a reply.

She was already there and had been hanging out with her old friends for two days, having the time of her life.

"Prepare for hugs. Lots of them," I typed, sealing the message with a heart and hitting send.

The boat cut through the waves, carrying me closer to my girl, to shared histories, and to a weekend where Agent Thomas could hang up her badge and just be Eva Rae.