The velvet box was still in my desk drawer. The stone house was still mine, legally, and would remain so until I decided otherwise, which I had not yet decided. Time was the necessary element. I had learned this from the vines, which do not rush their best fruit, which take years to establish the roots that allow them to produce something worth keeping.
I was willing to wait and see what grew.
The vineyard was dark and fragrant around me and the lights from the party reached this far as a warm ambient glow, and somewhere in that light my daughter was beginning her married life, and I had been present for it, which was what I had asked for and what I had been given.
It was enough.
For now, it was enough.
