I woke up, sweating and taking quick, shallow breaths. Anxiety pinched at my chest. I felt like I was going to lose it. The baby could come today, tomorrow, five minutes from now, and to be honest, it freaked me out. I asked Sophia to stay home with me again. She nodded, wrapped her arms around me, and gave me that warm, wordless, understanding embrace that only she could give. Then she picked up the phone and quit her job. Just like that! She said she’d been thinking about it for a while—mostly because she didn’t need it anymore and Desi was older and needed less hovering—but I think she liked the rhythm of it. A routine. A reason to put on shoes and leave the house a few times a week. But after winning the lottery, and now with our new little one on the way, I guess the decision made itself. She didn’t need to quit for me, but Watcher knows I was glad she did. Having her home—really home—made me feel like I could finally exhale.
Rosie slept in later than usual. She breathed softly and slowly, like being lost in a dream she didn’t want to leave. Her coat looked a little grayer than yesterday. She must’ve aged up overnight, so Kooper probably did, too. Knowing their time grew shorter didn’t help my already unsettled spirit. They’d been with us for so long. Through everything. Adopting them was one of the first things me and Sophia did together; they were our “tester kids,” ha. Rosie and Kooper were part of my village too, and right now, I needed everyone accounted for. Still, I knew every clock stopped, eventually. I’d already reset their lives once. This time, I needed to let them go.
I barely caught Desi before she dashed out the door for school. She’s growing so fast, trying to figure out who Desiree Amari Murillo is, testing out clothes, hair, everything. This morning, she looked extra cute, and I prayed it was just a fashion experiment and not a strategic move for her crush. She has to know she’s seen. Everyone sees her. That’s just how it went with us, Murillos, heh. Good genes were both a blessing and a curse.
Later that afternoon, I hit a wall. Out of nowhere, sadness just wrapped around me like a weighted blanket I couldn’t throw off. It wasn’t about the baby, or the dogs, or Desi growing up. It wasn’t about anything, really. I just felt like crying. Like, all the emotions I’d kept neatly boxed up were leaking out at once. I didn’t fight it that time and I allowed myself to wallow in it. Alessia called around then, checking in, asking if the baby had come yet. I told her no, and that honestly, I was having a rough day. She offered to come by, but I told her Sophia quit and was home for good. She was glad to hear it and said she’d come when we were ready.
When Desi got home, she too was upset. She ranted about school being pointless, how nothing they taught felt relevant to her life, how everyone was pushing university like it was the only option, and how she didn’t even know if she wanted to go. Said it all felt fake. A trap. I let her vent, nodding quietly, watching her pace the floor like I once had.
She reminded me of myself—of a conversation I once had with Mama where I asked the same questions after hearing the same tired speeches. They pushed university like it was the only road worth walking, yet here I was, happy and fulfilled, never stepping foot on a campus. And that was before winning the lottery. Even before the money tree. Part of me was proud. Desi realized early that success wasn’t a straight line. That you could draw your own map. Sure, growing up with money probably made it easier for her to see, but truthfully, I’d seen that coming in her for a while. She’d always been independent and clear-eyed. But another part of me hoped she’d at least try university before crossing it off. I’m all about forging your own path, but it would be nice if at least one person in this family earned a degree. Maybe one day my grandkids will realize that dream for me.
