“When I fell off the pole—the electric pole, not the stripper’s pole,” he goes on, “and had to take disability after being a lineman for twenty-five years, I felt depressed and found comfort in things that weren’t good for me. But Marnie’s helped me see that I still have a life and a purpose… although that purpose is not to get her laid.” He breezes through the chuckling. “I let go of feeling lost over what I’ve lost.”

My heart pitter-patters over his profound statement and how it’s what I need to hear, too.

He clears his throat and reads, “Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.”

I gasp, taking in the imagery, and feel tears threatening to fall. “Oh, Roy.”

“Those aren’t my words. A guy named Merwin wrote it. But, you know, Google’s a wonderful thing.” He sticks the wing in his mouth, roughly folds his boat, and sets it, lopsided and stained, on the water, setting the chicken bones inside. Then, he pushes it away from the dock, where it mingles with the others.

That’s how I felt after the accident—lost over what I’d lost and everything shadowed by the absence. My hand goes to my stomach, missing what will never be, and my head falls softly on Grady’s shoulder, standing beside me.

His hand circles my waist, pulling me closer. Softly kissing my forehead, he whispers, “Ready?”

We say nothing as we set our boats adrift. Though it’s only paper that will soon be saturated and vanish into the murk, sending them off feels freeing and necessary—like these delicate, little objects hold the heavy weights we’ve all carried for far too long.

The tiny paper boats bobble, causing small ripples in the water underneath them and changing the surface reflection into something more unique. It’s lovely in the strangest way. One tear slips out that I quickly brush away, and Grady tugs me closer like he knows what I’m feeling.

I take in the occupants of this rickety swamp dock as we stand in silence. I’m surrounded by people who defy expectations.

Wren, for being a teenager who chooses to be herself over fitting in.

Christie, for raising Wren to be a free spirit, and showing me what a father should be.

Roy, for simply being Roy and for his big heart.

Wade, for giving me a chance at the expense of his comfort and letting me change everything.

Grady, for giving up his solitary life, his time, his everything. For me.

Now, I’m counted among them—The Queen of Lost Causes and Second Chances, spared from an expectant life for one that will be whatever I want it to be.