48. Summer
48
SUMMER
T he morning sunlight spilled through the kitchen window as I sat at the table, my laptop open in front of me. Ava’s laughter echoed from the living room as she played with Enzo, her magnetic tiles clicking together as they built yet another tower for Bunny’s imaginary kingdom. It had been weeks since we left the hospital, and the house was finally starting to feel like home again—full of warmth, laughter, and the quiet hum of normalcy.
But as I stared at my email inbox, my stomach tightened. I’d been toying with an idea for days now, inspired by everything we’d been through with Ava. My graphic design work had always been fulfilling, but after spending so much time advocating for Ava and connecting with other families in similar situations, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I could do more.
“Mommy, look!” Ava called, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I turned to see her proudly holding up her latest creation—a colorful castle with a tall, precariously balanced spire. “That’s amazing, sweetheart,” I said, smiling.
Enzo appeared behind her, his hands on his hips as he pretended to inspect the structure. “Hmm, I think Bunny might need a permit for that,” he teased.
Ava giggled, spinning to show Bunny her masterpiece. “Bunny says it’s fine!”
I laughed, my chest warming at the sight of them. Enzo caught my eye and gave me a soft smile before turning back to help Ava reinforce her spire.
Later that afternoon, while Ava napped, I sat on the couch with my laptop, drafting an email to Elaine. The Pearson Foundation had recently announced a major overhaul of its policies, and I couldn’t shake the idea that I could help. My hands hovered over the keyboard as I typed out my pitch.
Hi Elaine, I hope this email finds you well. I wanted to reach out with an idea I’ve been working on. Inspired by my journey with Ava, I’d love to use my graphic design skills to create campaigns for families in need of medical support. I believe we can highlight real families and their stories to help connect donors with the people they’re supporting. Let me know if this is something the foundation would be interested in. Warm regards, Summer.
I read it over twice before hitting send, my heart racing as I closed the laptop.
“What’s got you so focused?” Enzo’s voice broke the silence.
I looked up to see him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed, a playful smile on his face.
“Just an idea I had,” I said, tucking my legs under me.
He walked over, sitting beside me. “Want to share?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “I emailed Elaine. I was thinking about creating campaigns for the foundation—something that tells the stories of families like ours. I want to help people see the faces behind the numbers, to connect with the real lives they’re impacting.”
Enzo’s smile widened, his dark eyes filling with admiration. “That’s incredible, Summer. They’d be lucky to have you.”
“Do you really think so?” I asked, my voice tinged with uncertainty.
“I know so,” he said, reaching for my hand. “You’re amazing at what you do, and you’ve got the biggest heart. This is perfect for you.”
Two days later, Elaine called me. Her enthusiasm was immediate, her voice warm and encouraging as she expressed how much she loved my idea. “We’ve been looking for ways to make the foundation feel more personal,” she said. “This is exactly what we need, Summer. Let’s do it.”
And just like that, I was back in the game, but this time, my work felt more meaningful than ever. Over the next few weeks, I dove headfirst into designing the first campaign, meeting with Elaine and her team to brainstorm ideas. I poured my heart into every design, every story, determined to make each one as impactful as possible.
Balancing work and family wasn’t easy, but Enzo and I found a rhythm. He juggled his new role leading the pediatric initiative with ease, his passion for the work shining through in every conversation we had. In the evenings, we’d sit together on the couch, sharing updates about our day while Ava played nearby.
One night, as we cleaned up after dinner, I turned to him, my heart full. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
He looked up from the sink, his smile soft. “We have. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
I set the dish towel down, crossing the room to wrap my arms around him. “Me neither.”
He pulled me closer, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I teased, smiling as he laughed.
A few weeks later, I was finalizing the first set of campaign materials when Ava wandered into my office, Bunny in tow. She climbed onto my lap, her eyes wide as she looked at the designs on my screen.
“Are those stories about other kids like me?” she asked, her voice curious.
“They are,” I said, brushing a curl from her face. “They’re stories about how brave kids like you are and how their families love them so much.”
She smiled, resting her head against my chest. “I like that.”
“Me too, baby,” I said softly, holding her close.
That evening, after Ava went to bed, Enzo and I sat on the porch, the warm summer breeze wrapping around us. “She said we already act like a real family,” I said, smiling at the memory.
“That’s because we are,” Enzo replied, his hand finding mine.
I turned to him, my heart racing as I met his gaze. “So, what does that make us?”
He leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “It makes us partners. A team. And maybe, if you’re ready for it, something more.”
Tears filled my eyes as I nodded, my voice trembling. “I’m ready.”
He smiled, pulling me into his arms as the weight of uncertainty melted away. In that moment, I knew we were exactly where we were meant to be—together, building a life filled with love, laughter, and hope.