Free In a Moon Smile by Sherri Coner

perfect cherub, discussing whether she might be teething or maybe she had a tummy ache. Chesney grabbed at her lost composure and tried to pat it back into place. The quiet moment gave her a chance to relive the sweet scenario of buying the home. More than a decade ago, she last stood on Grace’s front porch, loving the spring time sounds of change, birth and beginnings.
    S he vividly saw herself, cross-legged on the second porch step, methodically peeling an orange while Grace rocked slowly on the porch swing. When Chesney closed her eyes, she could hear the whispery scuff of Grace’s garden shoes on the porch floor every time she swung forward. She could see the breeze lift the fluff of Grace’s snow-colored hair. She saw her grandmother’s sweet smile and felt the touch of her hand as Chesney dropped fresh orange slices into Grace’s palm. She was at peace there, safe and confident, too. For all of their life together, Chesney knew that Grace loved her, no matter who she was or wasn’t. In Grace’s presence, Chesney never had to be tall and blonde. In fact, Grace loved her curly auburn tresses, just like her father’s.
    A few days ago, on a cold, winter day, Chesney caught her breath when she crested the country hill and saw the house again. She had shivered happily when she realized that no one lived there anymore. The lifelessness gave her permission to snake along the lane, park the car and trespass after all the years of being away. Chesney stood silent and tearful in the midst of her childhood again. It was intense, emotional and strangely calming. As she stared across the meadow that nearly constant stress headache suddenly stopped throbbing. She breathed more deeply, standing there alone in the bitter cold. She was lulled by the wind whipping in the giant, reaching tree limbs.
    When she returned first to Chicago, then to Manhattan, for a couple of days, Chesney could not stop thinking about the feelings that floated through her chest while she stood there again, loving Grace’s house. She saw herself returning soon to her grandmother’s home with every single possession she owned. Chesney ached for the peace she experienced that day when she stepped out of the car to peek at her most treasured yesterdays.
    It’s time to cut loose from the people who force me into the backseat. It is definitely time for me to be the driver. No matter how scary it feels, I will start making my own path. I’m in charge of what road I take.
    Maybe it sounded crazy to her family but Chesney knew where she was supposed to be. Standing in the middle of the overgrown garden, on the edge of the rickety porch, on the hilltop by the pond, she felt strong and centered. There was no denying it. Chesney felt something there that she couldn’t feel here. The decision rested in her chest like a sparkling butterfly. She knew, from the bottom of her soul, exactly what she needed. And truthfully, it was the first time ever that doubt didn’t crowd against her need. Other people’s opinions didn’t smother Chesney’s wishes this time either.
    “I’m going to give Grace’s place back to my heart,” she whispered that day. “And I’m going to trust what my heart needs.” Then Chesney caught an early commuter flight from Chicago to Indianapolis. Dressed in a smart black suit, she rented a car, drove to the Southern Indiana countryside and sat down in the town’s only cafe with a smiling Realtor named Darlene Grindstaff.
    “You’re sure you want to buy that property?” Darlene had asked. “If you want to relocate to this area, I’m sure I can find a home for you with less need for repair, Ms. Blake.”
    “I only want this home,” Chesney said sweetly as she signed the papers.
    Grace’s home is now my home. This is the sweetest commitment I have ever made in my life.
    Here she sat, making the official announcement about the giant turn her life was taking. Despite how terribly inept Chesney allowed them to make her feel, she