Two yearster in spring, I used my savings for a down payment on a two–bedroom apartment in town.


    On moving day, lots of people from the vige came to help. Aunt Martha’s eyes were red as she held my hand and said: “Elena, honey, you’ve made something of yourself, but don’t forget toe back and visit.”


    The new ce wasn’t big, but it had great sunlight. I decorated a little room for my child with cartoon stickers all over


    the walls.


    My child was two and a half now, could say lots of words, and loved calling me “mommy” most of all. Every night


    before bed, he’d hug my neck and say: “Mommy worked hard today.”


    That feeling of being needed and loved made life feelplete and fulfilling.


    In the new environment, I made many friends. Lisa downstairs was awyer who often gave me legal advice. Mrs. Stone across the hall watched her granddaughter, and the two kids yed together well.


    Life was peaceful and full – I thought it would continue like this forever.


    Until that snowy winter when I ran into Gabriel at the supermarket.


    He looked much older, with graying hair, wearing an ordinary down jacket and pushing a cart while shopping for


    discounted items.


    The moment he saw me, he froze, then looked withplicated eyes at the child beside me.


    My son was three now, looked a lot like him, but had apletely different personality – lively and cheerful, pulling


    my


    hand and pointing at toys on the shelf.


    “Elena…<i>” </i>Gabriel started to say something.


    “Is there something you need?” My tone was t, like I was talking to any ordinary stranger.


    Gabriel looked at the child, then at me, and finally said nothing, pushing his cart away.


    At checkout, the cashier whispered to me “That man was watching you two the whole time, his eyes were all red.”


    I didn’t look back and felt nothing at all.


    The person who once caused me so much heartache was now truly just a stranger in my eyes.


    After getting home, while giving my child a bath, he suddenly asked “Mommy, why was that uncle staring at us?”


    I paused, then said softly. “Maybe he thought we looked really happy.”


    “We are really happy!” my child giggled “I have the best mommy in the world!”


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    Yes, we were happy.


    No lies, no betrayal, no grievances or tears – just simple, pure love and being loved.


    That night, I stood on the balcony watching the snowkes dance, feeling more peaceful than ever before.


    All the past pain and struggle had shaped who I was now.


    If I hadn’t experienced that darkness, I never would have known that one person could live such a wonderful life.


    Spring came, and my child was starting kindergarten. While packing his little backpack, I found a drawing he’d made- two people holding hands in front of a house, one big and one small.


    “Mommy, this is our home,” my child pointed at the drawing. “Just the two of us – it’s the best.”


    I hugged him and kissed him over and over.


    Yes, our home with just the two of us was the best.


    All those past experiences that once caused me pain had now be the most precious treasures of my life.


    They taught me what real love was, what real happiness was.


    The me now no longer needed anyone’s charity or pity. I had my own career, my own home, and the little angel who loved me most in this world.


    That was enough – truly enough.


    Outside the window, spring was beautiful, and my child’s and my life was just beginning.


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