Chapter 10 - A Year Later
Three hundred and sixty-five days later, the sun was once again sinking below the horizon at Nags Head.
The beach house was the exact same one Dad had booked for his seventy-first birthday. The umbrellas were pitched in the sand, the cooler was sitting near the chairs, and six adults and five children were gathered near the water.
Finn, now nine years old, was sprinting down the beach, kicking a soccer ball ahead of him with incredible skill, his cousin chasing close behind.
On his arm, he wore a sleek, waterproof continuous glucose monitor covered with a blue soccer-ball sticker. Snug against his waistband was a small, tubeless insulin pump—a device he had mastered using all on his own over the past year.
Lydia sat in a beach chair beside me, sipping an iced tea, reading her book, completely at ease. Her phone rested in her lap. Occasionally, it would beep softly, showing his real-time sugar levels. She would glance at it, smile, and go right back to reading.
"He scored two goals in his league championship last month," Lydia said casually, not even looking up from her paperback. "His endocrinologist said his A1C is 6.8. Perfect control."
"He looks amazing, Lyd," I said, leaning back in my lounger, feeling the warm sun on my face.
"He is amazing," she said softly. She closed her book and looked over at me. "How was your shift on Tuesday? You said you had a rough night in the ER."
"It was busy," I smiled gently. "Pediatric ERs never really slow down. But I have three days off now, and I am officially on duty as Aunt Greer."
"Good," Lydia laughed, elbowing me lightly in the ribs. "Because Finn said he wants you to help him build a sand castle that can withstand the high tide tonight, and Shane wants to know if you think his elbow looks 'slightly inflamed'."
I laughed out loud—a bright, clear sound that carried out across the waves.
May you like
Finn kicked the soccer ball high into the air, caught it expertly on his knee, and looked back at us with a roaring grin, his face lit up by the warm, golden rays of the Carolina sun.
There were no emergencies today. Just a family, whole and healed, enjoying the beach together.
