Her winter descended the day her mother left and grew colder still when her father abandoned her, too. Ashley had met Maureen Tyler at a party, and within seven months, they were married. Just like that, both of Abbey’s parents were gone. For a time, her grandmother, Jesse, provided a comforting buffer, but the social worker assigned to her case deemed Jesse and her husband too elderly to care for Abbey. She was placed with foster parents. The biting winter winds that swept across the landscape felt less severe than the chilling emptiness that now stifled her very being. The despair was a blanket she couldn’t escape. Her school peers, often crueler than adults, targeted her with bullying and hurtful remarks. School became a source of unhappiness, transforming the once bubbly little girl into an introverted young person who spent most of her afternoons and weekends isolated in her room.

During these years, the only oases in her life were the unwavering love of her adoptive parents, James and Andrea Glazer, and the solace she found in music. For her fifteenth birthday, her grandmother, who had maintained visiting rights, gave her a tape recorder. Abbey immersed herself in a wide range of music, learning the lyrics and singing along in her beautiful alto voice. One song, “Wildflower” by Skylark, resonated deeply with her aching heart. The lyrics—”She’s faced the hardest times you could imagine and many times her eyes fought back the tears”—held profound meaning.

Her spring had arrived in the form of her adoptive parents, a loving couple unable to have children of their own. They showered her with a love that felt like the first warm days after a long, cold winter. This new chapter gave her a shield from the pain of her past and the cruelty of her peers. It was a welcome oasis, yet the pain lingered. This spring offered little hope for a truly happy future.

Finally, summer bloomed the day she met her husband, Clancy. Their meeting was serendipitous, as neither had planned to attend the birthday party of her one true friend, Persis Naidoo. He saw her in her flowery dress, and it was love at first sight. As they danced to Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly with His Song,” they both felt a sense of rightness. Three years later, she said yes to his marriage proposal.

Like Queen Elizabeth, Abbey could now declare, “Now has the winter of my discontent turned to glorious summer,” and indeed it had. The resilience she had developed during those formative years of disappointment and hardship enabled her to weather the storms and emerge victorious. She was a champion, a conqueror of her own story.

And so, here she stood, a woman whose life had come full circle. The girl who was abandoned now watched her own children play, their joyous laughter echoing through the Santa Cruz air. Abbey looked at her husband, Clancy, a man who had not only restored her faith in love but had helped her build a life defined by it. It was a life her younger self could never have imagined.

The scars of her past were still there, but they were no longer gaping wounds. They were faint lines on the tapestry of her life, reminders of a journey that had tested her to her very core. She knew the pain of rejection, the chilling emptiness of abandonment, but she also knew the transformative power of love. The pain she once felt was now a source of deep, unending empathy. It was a compass that guided her every day as a mother, ensuring her children would never feel the cold she once knew.

As she watched her family, a profound peace settled over her. She was no longer just Abbey Donne, the girl who was abandoned. She was Abbey Feine, a wife, a mother, and a survivor. The past was a memory, and the future was a promise. She had found her happily ever after, not despite her past, but because of it. It was a story of hope, a story of love, and most importantly, a story of a heart, once broken, that had finally found its way home.