“Hello, Clark,” she said warmly, holding a plate of cookies. “I thought you might like some company.”

I invited her in, grateful for the distraction. We chatted for hours, the conversation weaving through various topics—from her grandchildren to the latest neighborhood gossip. It felt good, this simple exchange. It reminded me that there was life beyond my daughter and the expectations that had been thrust upon me.

Later, as I lay in bed, I thought about what Mrs. Jenkins had said before leaving: “It’s never too late to carve out your own little world, dear. You just need to decide what you want it to look like.”