The Strength of Others

The Girl has zinged me the last couple of weeks with movies that have really hit home in our situation- We watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons, and, this last weekend, The Time Traveler's Wife. Now, either of the two films aren't classics, per say, but the theme of love and what people will do for love is what has hit me the hardest. And when I say it hit me, I mean straight-to-my-soul, donkey punch right in my heart where I've been a weeping mess for the next hour after seeing them. As most people do, I have the ability to focus on certain aspects of films that apply to my life, and it seems like these two really take the cake. On Benjamin Buttons, it was near the end of the story, in which Benjamin leaves the love of his life, for he knows (or thinks he knows) that life will be too hard for his wife, the woman he's loved and adored for so many years, from near and far, to take care of him while she was raising their daughter. As I watched this film, lying across Iris's lap, the emotion of him making that decision after so many years without her, having her on the periphery of his thoughts and heart, and finally getting a few years with her, in which he was truly happy, truly in love... and he makes the decision to willingly leave. It destroyed me. I understand why he made the decision, but to see it on the screen just tore me apart. As I'm lying there, tears streaming down my face, my Girl has the uncanny ability to know what's tearing through me. She holds me, tells me it's going to be all right, smooths my hair and soothes me with her words and her touch. She tells me how Benjamin's wife makes the choice to take care of him when he can't take care of himself, that she wouldn't let him go, even when he forgot who she was and even forgot who he was. She's telling me that her love (hers and Daisy's) is strong enough to do the hard things when necessary.

This past weekend, we saw The Time Traveler's Wife, and it socked me twice as hard. Again, it's the themes of not being able to be with the love of your life- how, that as it was not in his control, that they would take the time that was allowed them, and they created a loving, caring relationship out of the things they could control. The last scene was the best. After his death (sorry, spoilers! :P) he meets his daughter and his wife four years later. He didn't tell them that he had ever come to this time before because he said he didn't want her waiting for him after he was gone... and it hit me so hard, because for their lives, that seems like that's all they were doing- they were waiting for the time to be able to be together. When they had those times, things were glorious. When they were waiting... they were waiting. And Clare loved him. She never said it was too hard and that she didn't want to do it anymore. Even when it was hard, when he disappeared and she had no idea when he would be back, her love for him was stronger than the difficulty of him not being there.

In both of these movies, it seems like the male characters got the main billing. But in reality, it was the strength of the female leads that willfully forced and forged the love into something eternal. The male leads had no way to control their actions- being it aging backwards or traveling in time- and the only true rock, the true lighthouse in the raging seas of their lives, were the women.

All of this socked me after we left the theater and we were driving home. The sudden, overwhelming feeling that I would have to disappear for ten days in six hours hit me. I didn't want to go. The way I need Iris filled me to a point that the realization that I wouldn't be able to hold her, kiss her, pick her up and carry her to the bed nearly broke me in two. I told her this- I told her how I don't want to leave her. That it was so fucking unfair. We didn't do anything wrong- why do I have to be away from her for this time? And I let go. She kissed my tears away. She held onto me as I let these feeling wash over me. What other choice do we have? We have the choice not to do this, but I'd rather cut off my head rather than not have her in my life. So, we wait. We wait and enjoy and soak up every second of every minute of every hour that we have together.

We don't like to be sad and maudlin about the time that we're apart. Mac is coming out with a new version of iChat in a few days, that should make our video much better than it is now, (and it ain't too bad now) and I told her that whatever we can do to make each other feel closer to each other on the days that we're away from each other is what we will do. We are determined, dear readers- we know what we want and need from each other. So we wait. We wait until we don't have to again. I'll take the movies that show me that other people have known this feeling, and that when people love each other, you do things that you didn't think you had the strength to. For the times I am with my Girl, it is glorious. And I'll live for those days as long as I have to, or as long as she'll have me. For she is my lighthouse. She is my rock. I take such solace in her unwavering calm when I break down. She makes me feel safe.

The Goblin Bee

If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemens land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

Miss Dickinson

A horribly rough week I've had.

Many, many things just have not fallen right for me. Serious problems with the ex that will make us go back to court, money problems, the beginning of work with a new prep that I'm flying by the seat of my pants every day, and to top it off- I can't see Iris. I've grown accustomed to her face. Her touch. Her mere presence next to me for as long as she has been. And now, I sit in this house that is too big, too empty, too much not the place I want to be in. I keep repeating the only mantra that gets me through...."five more days...four more days...." until I've made it through, once again, to completely and utterly inhale and soak up as much as my girl as I can.

I rarely have bad stretches like this one. I guess I've been lucky most of my life in that regard. When they happen, I really don't know how to react, how to get myself out of them. Add to it the overwhelming loss that I feel now that our summer has come and gone, and I almost reach the long-forgotten prickly feeling of a panic attack- not quite, but I've heard the dim buzzing around my room once or twice, in the middle of the night...where I sit and scream over and over at the realization of the full-blown fear that washes over me and overtakes me for those terrifying, mind erasing minutes. What's stopped them this last week? The slow, steady breathing that I've heard on the other side of the monitor, the woman who stopped me from having bi-weekly panic attacks nearly two years ago. I think of her, and my heart smooths out and my head stops swimming. Sometimes, it's so hard- not difficult, for the word difficult connotes something not easily accomplished- I mean hard, as in life-draining, soul-tearing hard....

I have to keep the present in front of me- the very second and stay mindful of it. Notice everything that my senses are feeling and keep myself out of my own head- for right now, the pain of not being with my girl is crushing me. I also keep the future in sight- knowing the way in which we will be there together, when I will be able to roll over and kiss her as I write in here, is there for the taking, as long as I work and she works towards that end. That's the goal. That's my happy ending. I'll tread water and make myself a better person for her, so when that time comes, we'll take that shot at the brass ring. Together.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

I miss you, baby.

27 of 31

27 of the last 31 days, I have been with my Girl.

In those 27 days, we had at 5 arguments, some that were rather serious and had us discussing things that will be vital to the existence of our relationship.  We talked, we cried, we listened to the words each other had to say.

In those 27 days, I saw my Girl blossom and bloom at a conference she went to, and I saw how she can be a scared little girl- something that I had never really seen in Iris before.  I took care of her when she needed it, and I held her hand and let her fly by herself as I wandered around the big city.

In those 27 days, I saw how she feels when she is with Caesarion for some time- and it's hard for her, when she sees him and compares him to her girls.  I've tried to console and make her feel as good as she can with the situation, and tried to show her how she and her opinion matter to me when these situations arise.

In those 27 days, my ex wife put the final and utter stamp of the end of any feelings of remorse and pity I have ever felt for her.  The pure ugliness she showed me and Iris has damned her to Hell to me- and she will never, never be anything more than my son's mother.  She shall never be a friend, which I had hoped for when it was all said and done, nor will I have any reason to show her any compassion and friendliness.  I do not take these words lightly.  You do not hurt the woman I love, ex.  You did that.  You have an enemy in me for the rest of your days.

In those 27 days, we got a new member of the family.  His name is Dog, and he sleeps by my side as I write this.  He's the greatest traveling companion to my trips to my love, but he is no replacement.  As I write, I feel my heart swell and heave, my chest crashing into itself as his slow, steady breathing moves my leg.  He's a part of us now, but he can't numb the pain that I still feel not lying next to Iris this very minute.  We picked him out together, and I will always remember that, but he is, like everything else in my life, a poor substitute for what I want and need, which is Iris by my side every day.

In those 27 days, we grew together.  Sometimes, constant readers, growing hurts.  Sometimes, it hurts really fucking badly.  With the pain and the tears that we had, the joy of just being with Iris for that amount of time, even when we argued, made my soul and my heart attach more fast and completely to her than I ever though possible.

Last night, Iris cried to me.  Her old worries bubbled up and she cried that she was sorry that she was such high maintenance and that she isn't normally like this and she was afraid that I won't be able to take it and I'll go and find someone who isn't so needy and needs so much hand-holding and she promised me that one day, when this insane heartbreakingly long time is over that she will repay me, and she will take care of me and she'll show me that she is strong and will give me all that I want and need from her...

and I held her, and I told her that she is the one I want.  I asked her to repeat something for me- something that is so fucking hard for her to accept and believe, but I needed her to say it because I need her to believe it.  I asked her to tell me that she deserves all the love that she gets from me.  This statement- I looked at her face when I said it- absolutely pained her.  She couldn't do it.  So I went underhanded on her.  I asked her if she believed God had a plan for her.  I asked her if she thought God loved her, and wanted her to be happy as she worked through all of the pain she had been through the last few years.  I asked her if I made her happy.  I received positive responses from all of these statements.

Iris and I have differing views on religion, but there is one thing that I do believe- about more than anything I ever had in my life.  I think that God, or Fate, or Love, or whatever good there is floating in the universe, made me feel this way about this fantastic little woman many years ago, even though the timing wasn't right.  God stuck her face and her mind and her spirit into me, and for those few years that we were apart, she was never far from my thoughts- I didn't know why at the time- but I do now.  Because going on two Novembers ago, I wrote the Girl a little email that she responded to....and we've not talked to each other for more than hours since those 21.....21!!! months have passed.  It's been nearly two years since I've found my Girl, my love of my life, and she thinks that I'll bug out because she's needy sometimes?

Baby- it's in the stars. 

What have these 27 of 31 days of this summer shown me? That there is a God.  That sometimes, if we're lucky, and good, and true to ourselves, that we find someone who helps make us complete.  I have found that person in you, Iris.  You've found that person in me- even though you sometimes think your past sins should take this away from you.  I may not be the best-versed religious man in the world- I may think that man has mostly fucked up the beauty that spirituality can truly be, but I know one thing- that every time I look at you, and hold you, and make love to you, that my heart soars and my soul sings, as much as that first time we quipped in your room at school and I raised my head to the heavens and asked why I couldn't have you then.  God answered, but I couldn't hear it then- but I do now.

Patience. 

I'll hold you in ten days and repeat every word of this with my lips next to yours, so you feel my breath utter every sound into you.  I cherish you, my angel.

Good Morning

Tonight (this morning) comes right out of Singin in the Rain:

"Looks like May 7th is my lucky day."
"You mean May 8th-it's past midnight."
...and then I burst into song, accompanied by jumps and spins and whirls and pure exhalations of joy.

Iris has written about me.

It's a sweet, concise post that expresses her joy, our hopes, and our desires to be well- to be right- and to do them for the right reasons.

...she's actually written about me.

The one thing, that, above all things, made me fall in love with her- she has used to talk about me...

I remember a very specific day, many, many years ago, reading her original blog. I don't remember the post-hell, I don't remember the year- but I remember the feelings I experienced when I read her writing. I remember feeling a longing for this woman who could write what she felt, what she saw, what she dreamt about...and I remember wanting more than anything to be a part of this woman's life. I didn't care how, but I knew I wanted her to write those things about me.

Me.

When I would write her so many years ago, I remember it was like a virtual telephone call. I would pick up the phone, get halfway through dialing the numbers, and then hang up. Over. And Over. I would agonize over each word I would write- I wanted it to be funny, flirty, sincere, and ask her questions that I hope would elicit a quick response from her. When she would write me back...oh God- I would pour over every word she wrote, hearing her voice in the words, smiling at the jokes and funnies, reading and rereading passages over and over, making her materialize in front of my eyes- that smile, those dancing eyes...for, to me, her words were her- they still are, and I think that they will always be.

When we got to chatting, I always felt like the biggest goof in the world. I thought that this wonderful woman would see that I'm not the smooth guy who would pen these witty and thoughtful mails to her. I tried to keep up as best as I could...and then we clicked. We clicked in an airport- when she was going home to see her folks. The words came easily- we bantered and quipped and talked like a pair that had known each other forever and were at ease with one another. Like it has always been there. Those words were between us; they were meant for us. Almost 18 months later, my girl, my love of my life, writes about me. She tells the people in her world that she is happy.

Because she is happy, I am times one thousand.

This was taken at about 3:00am. It's for you, baby.

Good Morning.

Ramblings a 3:30am

I can see the attraction of scarring as a body modification for some people.  It's been a week for the tattoo to heal, the skin is sloughing off left and right- it's rather disgusting, actually.  It reminds me of back in the good old days, before I realized that my Irish skin couldn't take that big ball in the sky's rays, and the sunburn would peel huge tracts of my skin off during the summer hours.  The itching was insane for a few days- a deep, almost bone depth of my skin knitting itself back together.  Yesterday, though, i kept running my fingers over the swirls and flowers of the design, feeling the design that's been inprinted on my upper arm (see?  I always get back on track- it just takes me a while), and I realized that's one of the big psychological attractions of tattoos for me.  I love, and I mean adore, the feeling of that raised skin, if not more than the actual design itself.  Actually, it makes me a bit sad to be able to feel the skin returning to normal and being unable to feel the design with the tips of my fingers.  I keep wanting the coloring to happen so I can feel that raised part again.  I'm assuming that's the rush that people get when they get a branding or have designs inserted under their skin- a constant visual and physical reminder of the modification.  I so want the girl to run her fingers over it- touch it and have my skin feel her hands trace over the flowers and wind bars and eddys of the design. 

Things have gone into extra crazy mode around here.  We're working towards the end of the year, and the girl has realized that she's moving a few weeks earlier than she though she was going to be...as in this weekend.  As in four days.  Looks like we'll be in for an exhausting time in the next few days.

It seems as if Iris is on the verge of writing about me.  She put up a post about her birthday that slyly said something about all of the people that she loved were in the same place at the same time, and to stay tuned for a post about it.  I can't wait to see what she says, even though I think that it will be some time for her to get that post written, even if she didn't have a million and a half things going on at once.  It's the culmination of many years for the girl- years of hiding, living two lives, knowing who to trust and not to trust- and it's going to take a lot of courage for all of the puzzle pieces to finally be put into order and create that new picture of who Iris is.  I'm excited for her to be able to accept her life as it is now- no more leaving things out.  Not just telling some of the stories that she wants to tell, but for her to be able to write about all of the things that she wants to say, no matter who is in the narrative.

I can't wait to show up.

Two Days and I see my girl! 

Thank God.

p.s.- to keep on the rambling tip, a quick story.

The ex has taken out an insurance policy on me.  She's afraid that if I die a firey (or not so fiery) death driving down to see Iris, she wouldn't be able to make the payments on the house.  So she decided to take a policy out on me.  We had one of our mutual friends from back when we were married get a policy ready for us, and I had to sign the paperwork tonight after I dropped Caesarion off.  Our mutual friend was commenting on how good I looked, and how much weight I lost, and I made the old, "Cocaine's a hell of a drug," remark (my usual response to the weight question).  The ex decides to show her class by saying, "Well, it's because he has a girlfriend now!"

Pure. Class.

I looked at her from across the table, and said, "Yeah, and, I'm happy!"  As in not eating myself into an early grave because my life was so fucking miserable, oh.... like it was when I was married to you!  Our mutual friend suddenly got very busy on his laptop as we glared across the table at each other.

Two can play at that game- watch what you say, ex.  I'm not the same boy as I was...

p.s.s.-  Caesarion, Daisy, and Lilly now constantly ask each other (and me and Iris) when they are going to come and see each other.  This evening, they kept asking each other over the computer, waiting for the answer.  Sooner than later, babies- we'll have a great time in a couple of months.

Oh boy, what fun we'll have.

Second Art

Things have been busy recently, with the big reveal occurring this weekend, school starting to wind down, and plans for the summer ramping up. In addition to that, I decided that it would be a good time to get started on my second piece of ink on me. I had made an appointment for a quarter-sleeve over a month ago- Ever since I got the first one, I wanted another one. I had plans for it in my mind for some time.
And here it is- the first stage, at least:


Here's the shot that my girl likes the most:


It's a quarter-sleeve of ideals that are utterly vital to my life right now- sakura (the cherry blossom) and the sun. Here's how I see things:

Since I got the first sakura on my chest, I knew I wanted to get a quarter-sleeve. I wanted four images in it- three sakura and a sun/moon. The sakura would represent the babies, these beautiful forces of nature that are vital in my life. Caesarion, because he is my son, but also Lilly and Daisy, for they are the most important thing in Iris's life. Because of that, they are that important to me. Now, all of the most important people in my life have sakura (Iris has the first one over my heart). The sun/moon is my girl. I've called her my miniature sun forever- it's a line from an old XTC song by that same name, and we've always shared the notion that when we're apart, we can look into the sky and see the moon, the same moon- and we know that we're both looking at it, thinking about each other.

I wanted to keep it in a mostly traditional Japanese art style, so there are wind bars and lines that move up and around towards the sun/moon, with individual pedals of the sakura floating in the breeze. My artist kept it open near the top so I can try to incorporate the one on the chest if I get the urge next year.

I canceled my first appointment because I wanted Iris to be up here with me when I got it. I wanted to share the experience with her as I did with my first one. The second appointment came around, and I knew that as busy as our summer was going to be, and how nearly impossible it is to get an appointment with my artist, that I needed to get it started now if I wanted it done. And I did- I wanted it to be a kind of present for Iris. I want her to be able to touch the lines, help me with the colors that will be added to the flowers, and when I see her next week, that's exactly what will happen. My coloring appointment is set up for over two months away- that's how tough it is to schedule with this guy, so I knew I had to take advantage of the five plus hours I could get with him in one sitting.

I know it hurts Iris that I got this without her here, for it represents everything that is important to us, but I hope she can understand that I did it myself for us, too. I want her to know that even though we may not be there with each other physically whenever we want, she is always in my heart and mind- and I wanted to get it started so she can see it, touch it, marvel at the art that she made possible in my life.

The sitting wasn't bad at all. I'm discovering that I'm wired in a way that pain isn't something that's completely a negative experience for me. It really didn't hurt at all until the fifth hour, and then I just rode the feelings through.

I'm already thinking about the next piece...and I think the girl is, too.

The Reveal

It was the girl’s big birthday weekend, and I got the best present out of the deal. Wanna hear the story?

For Iris’s birthday, I had some things planned that would get us out of Nowhere to a place not too far away, but some place that we can do the things that we love to do- goof around, shoot, shop, and relax a bit. We had massages- the girl’s first true one, and then we spent the night over at a little bed and breakfast that I had found online. The B&B was very cute, and I got the room with the TV, since that’s like a special treat for us ;)

On Monday, which was her birthday, she was going to get the girls for dinner, and I was going to hang out at the place until they were finished, and then I would take off at my usual departing time of 10:00pm. We each had to make our calls on Sunday night, and I told her that I would go get the car gassed up and ready to go, and make my call to Caesarion, while she called the girls. While I was out, I get a text:

“Text me when you are coming back.”


Okay….I thought that the girls might be coming over for a second- maybe they had forgotten something, and she wanted to make sure I didn’t come strolling in-that may be a bit awkward… I gotta tell you, earlier in the week, when I knew I was going to be there Monday, the thought crossed my mind-for about a tenth of a second- that maybe she would get the girls and we could go out to dinner together. But I wasn’t going to bring it up, for I’ve learned a pretty big thing about my girl-and about myself- that I’ve been putting into practice for the last couple of months. I tell her something once- either I write her about it or I tell her, and then I let it go. She’s a bright woman- it’s not like she’s going to forget what I told her. I give her the opportunity to think about it and talk to me, in person, about the thing that I’ve asked her. It works pretty well. There are some things that I didn’t get an answer to, but you know what? If I want a response, and I give her a couple of weeks- and she still doesn’t respond, I have the right to ask her again. She’s not the kind of girl that telling her something ad nausea works…actually, that doesn’t work on anyone. The kind of person who does that is how too many people are- it’s me in the center as the world revolves around me. I have come to the conclusion that is not how the world works. Now, I have the right for responses when I want them. If she doesn’t feel like answering and I think that it’s important enough, I’ll ask her again. I’ll make it apparent that what I asked was important to me- but I can also see how some of the things that I ask are pretty small-fryish. Remember- don’t sweat the small stuff, right? I’m learning about that.

I text her, and I come home. I walk in, we talk, and she takes off- out the back door and into the courtyard…

What in the Hell is going on????

Okay, so now I’m getting really, really confused- and, to be honest, a bit miffed. The phrase of WTF crossed my mind at least once. I ask her what’s going on.

And she tells me that she’s going to bring the girls over here tomorrow. To meet me.

In person.

I’ve discovered that Iris makes me have some sort of medical condition- you all know about it. I shake around her after I haven’t seen her for some time….okay, ten days. I don’t remember last summer and if my condition lessens when we only go five days between seeing each other. The emotions well up inside me, and I turn into Lloyd Dobler for 10-15 minutes (look it up if you don’t know…jeeze)

Well, it appears that this condition also applies to Lilly and Daisy.

But I’ve had…..oh…..thirteen months of it being held in. I grab her and wrap her head into my chest- and I swear to God, I think that my heart is going to explode through my chest. She then tells me that she’s been thinking about it for some time, and she’s been talking to one of her good friends about it. She tells me it’s a good time. It’s a good time.

Remember how I was when she put pics of us up? How excited and happy I was? I was going to finally be able to touch and hold the babies. To see them- their eyes, their smiles, to pick them up, play with them.

The feelings I had nearly short circuited me.

Iris is freaking out about the ex. I mean freaking the eff out. I want to tell her to eff him, after all of the things that’s he’s done over the last year, but the guilt she feels about everything with him is still very prevalent. And that, my dear readers, I cannot make go away for her. As much as I would cut a part of me out if that would help, all I can do is hold her when she needs to be held and listen to her when she wants to talk to me about it.

Picture the Scene on the Porch, Sunday Night:

I’m nearly hyperventilating, knowing that I’m going to be able to meet the girls.

She’s nearly hyperventilating, knowing she is going to tell the ex that the girls are going to meet me.

We’re together in this big ole storm o’ emotions, but each of us is in our own dinghies.

Hold on- methinks this storm’s gonna last until 5:00 Monday.

We get through the night. Little Miss is fighting the feeling she’s going to heave, and me replaying on a continuous loop what the first five seconds of meeting the girls would be like.

The morning comes. The morning goes. Iris goes to work. I make a birthday cake. I think. I pace. Iris reprieves me and has me go to her work to burn an hour. I go back home. Iris comes home. She leaves to get the girls. I go sit in the car. Maybe, for the last time. Do you know how long I’ve been sitting in cars, waiting until the coast was clear? God, how I effing hated that. I knew it had to be done for the girls’ sake, but I hated it….it always played into the fact that I didn’t feel like I was good enough, that I had to be on the side…so, so many things from the last year plus raced through my mind, my heart.

And Iris’s car pulls in.

On the radio is Coldplay’s “The Hardest Part.” Iris looks over at me. And Lilly hops out. She walks the random five-year-old walk; half-play, half jumping, just enjoying the day.

“My God,” I say under my breath, “She’s so tiny.”

Daisy comes out, with the help of her mother. Even though she’s younger than her sister, she’s about the same size. They remind me of snowflakes.

The best way to describe what was happening to me at this time…..think of a tornado. Think how tornadoes can, if you look at them a certain way, be God’s eraser. Start everything back at square one. Erase all of the things that had come before. Those little girls, in my mind, would allow a complete fresh start between Iris and I and create something that we did not have together. They signify the first time, on this side of our relationship, to act in a parental way. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for so, so long. I’ve longed to see her be the mother to those girls, and not just watch over a monitor. They take a meandering stroll around the grounds and go inside. I breathe. I get the text,

“Ok, come on.”

Three raps on the door. It’s Lilly who opens the door. A smile beams and strikes me in the chest. I squat down. Daisy appears, shy smile across her face, partially hiding behind the door.

I open my arms. They come into them. I hug them and kiss each one of them in their hair. They are as light as dreams- as solid as silk scarves. Caesarion is wood and earth- they are air and water. They step back, and we’re all just smiling at each other. I’ve decided to ask the girls if they would help me decorate their mother’s cake for the party. We get out the cool whip, candles, sprinkles, and other various sundries, and we create Iris’s cake- the three of us. The three people who love her so, so much.

I wondered how you play with two- is there a conscious decision to stop talking and playing with one to then concentrate on the other? I didn’t know. But it just came to me. It was like this wasn’t new. It felt natural. As I talked with Lilly, Daisy crawled into my lap, and hugged me, giving me soft kisses on the cheek. Lilly smiled and said, “You’re not on the computer,” and I smiled right back and told her that this was much better.

And normal life continued.

Iris and I worked in the kitchen while the girls played in the living room. As Iris and I cooked, Daisy came up to my leg. I reached down and picked her up, sliding her in the hook of my arm. She put her head into my chest. She just held onto me. I slid my arm around her and hugged her, neither of us saying a word.

And it was as perfect of a moment as any that Iris and I have ever had.

Thank you, my love, for this wonderful present on your birthday.