Chapter 5 - What the Goat Got NamedI sat right down in the grass and cried, because grief and gratitude somehow felt exactly identical, whenever they arrived together like that. Foster sat down beside me in the grass too. "I'm sorry," he said. "I genuinely thought keeping it from you would make the eventual surprise even better."
I wiped my face. "And I thought emptying my own savings, without ever once telling you how much giving up that farm had genuinely hurt me, was simply love."
He looked at me steadily. "Maybe we're both just too good at deciding what's genuinely best for the other person, without ever actually asking them first."
His mouth tightened slightly. "No more secrets between us."
"No more surprises this enormous," I corrected gently. "Not with money. Not with our own future. We decide those particular things together from now on."
"Together," he agreed.
Weeks later, I stood inside the finished coop with Birdie, a warm hen tucked contentedly against my chest. "Can I name the goat myself?" she asked.
I smiled. "I think that's genuinely a family decision to make."
From somewhere outside the coop, Foster called out, "As long as it's not named Foster!"
May you like
Birdie dissolved instantly into giggles.
— END —
