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chapter seventeen moving on at the snowball
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ONE MONTH LATER
HER FINGERTIPS brushed softly over the box, hesitating. She knew that once she taped it shut, it would mean she was moving on. But was she ready?
The girl wore a simple black dress that reached her knees with match black flats. Her face was tear-stained, and for the first time, she was happy to let the tears fall down her cheeks freely.
She looked at the cardboard box again, trapping her lower lip between her teeth. It was the next step, and she knew it. In the five stages of grief, this was the final one, Acceptance. But it was hard because Acceptance, came with moving on. Was Rue Newby ready to move on?
