The Sky Heals Me Now

My mother-in-law visited today.
She came to pick up food — for Amy, our 15-year-old corgi.

Amy entered our lives the same time my marriage did.
My husband brought her home right after our wedding.

I loved him. so I loved her.
I bought a secondhand dress and shoes for the wedding ceremony — just $100.
But I spent four months’ salary to bring Amy with us to Taipei. I used to walk Amy and another dog, holding my daughter’s tiny hand — while carrying my son in my belly.
I washed Amy myself. Trimmed her fur.
one and half year ago, amy couldn’t stand on her own. so i took her for acupuncture for a whole year.
then acupuncture does work. i took her to do hyperbaric oxygen chamber therapy for last six months.

But one day, I told my husband:

“I can’t take her to treatment anymore. I’m tired.”

My love for Amy had quietly gone —
with the love I once held for her owner.

Last month, while I visited my parents in China,
my in-laws took Amy to their house.

When I returned, I asked gently,
“Should we bring Amy home?”

They said no.
I think they could feel it — that I no longer held the same tenderness for her.
Not because of Amy. But because I was shifting.
Because I finally needed to focus on myself.

Our last encounter hadn’t gone well.

My mother-in-law had offered $3,000 for a family trip to Shanghai Disneyland.
Later, I overheard: they said I was “too demanding.”

I felt insulted. it is them who suggested to fund this trip at the first place. So I returned the money — not out of pride, but to protect my dignity.

I told my father-in-law:

“I’ll find a job after my son go to elementary school. I’ll stand on my own.”

And I meant it.

I know she was hurt.
She had begged me to keep trying — to go to marriage counseling, to give her son another chance.
But she knew what the returned money meant:

It meant: I want my independence back.
I had been performing the role of the good mum, the good owner, the good wife, the good daughter-in-law.
But I am awake now.

Before her visit today, I felt a flicker of nervousness.
Would she avoid eye contact again?
Would her tone be sharp, like last time?

But I had already been healed by the rainbow — my birthday gift from the universe.
And I had made a quiet promise to myself:

“No matter what energy she brings — I will bring peace.
I will bring joy.
I will bring love.”

She came.
She smiled.
She was… normal.

And so was I.
We had a warm conversation, as if nothing painful ever passed between us.

After she left, I took my son to summer camp.
On my walk home, I looked up.

The sky was so clear.
Snow-white clouds floating like peace.

And I remembered my rainbow again.
And I whispered to the wind:

“I am still loved. I will hold this love and treat others with love.”