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I always joke that he's a young boy with a grown man's appetite.
"Mom, I'm scared!" Emily buries her face into her mother's leg as Mia appears worried.
"What can I do?" I'm ready to leap into action by doing anything to make Emily feel comfortable and distracted from the loud thunderstorm going on outside.
"Cartoons usually help to relax her, especially when calming her down enough to fall asleep."
"Okay, then, let's watch cartoons," I suggest with a smile, as I lead us all into the living room after we've removed our dishes and put them into the dishwasher.
While Mia settles the children in the living room, I head to one of the closets to pull out blankets and pillows to help everyone get comfortable. Dylan has this thing where he likes to lay on his stomach to watch TV, so I know he might only use the pillows.
As he gets comfortable on the floor, I'm surprised to see Emily do the same, lying on her stomach beside him. They thanked me as I covered them with their blanket before I sat on the couch beside Mia.
I turn on the TV and find the channel that plays nonstop cartoons before relaxing on the couch. I steal glances at Mia throughout, and I'm pleased when I see that she's also doing the same. Her body is so close to me, and I wish that I could pull her into me to share the couch cushion I'm sitting on.
I knew that we needed to chill out since the children were in the room, but my mind went to the most sinful places, with her staying yet another night here. Wanting my hands to roam all over her soft body like I had done last night once the kids were fast asleep.
I absentmindedly lick my lips and try to behave by pushing those thoughts aside and focusing on the silly cartoon on TV.
Dylan's full-hearted and infectious laughter catches my attention, and I find myself smiling at the sight of him and Emily so engrossed in the cartoon antics on the screen. Emily's giggles, lighter but just as joyful, blend perfectly with Dylan's.
"Did you see that, dad?" Dylan turns to me, his eyes wide with amusement. "The squirrel just... it just flew with a jetpack!"
"Yeah, I saw that, buddy," I respond, chuckling at his excitement. "Cartoons sure have everything these days, don't they?"
Emily nods vigorously, her eyes never leaving the screen. "But do you think squirrels could fly with jetpacks?" Her innocent question is laced with genuine curiosity, making me stifle a laugh.
"Not quite, Emily. But wouldn't it be cool if they could?" I play along, enjoying their wonder and amazement.
Dylan's imagination kicks into overdrive. "If I had a jetpack, I'd fly to the moon! And then I could wave to you and Mia from space!" He stretches his arms out wide, mimicking flight, his blanket sliding off his shoulders.
Emily joins in, "I'd fly to the candy store and bring back loads of candy for us!" Her declaration brings another round of laughter from Dylan, and I can't help but join in. Their joy is infectious.
Watching them, I feel a warmth spread through me, a contentment from these simple moments. Their laughter, wild imaginations, and happiness fill the room, pushing aside tension or worry. These moments, I realize, are what truly matter.
With the kids tucked away in their beds upstairs, fast asleep, the storm of the night envelops the house. The sudden electricity outage a little while back was far from inconvenient and only added to the serene atmosphere.
I had just finished lighting a few candles scattered around the living room, their soft glow casting dancing shadows against the walls. Rain tapping against the windows created a symphony, adding to the tranquility.
As I settle back onto the couch, Mia by my side, the room's ambiance is surreal. The flickering candles and the rhythmic rain outside erase the vibrant energy of the daytime, replacing it with a calm, almost otherworldly tranquility. Proper connections are forged in these moments, devoid of distraction.
Mia's presence next to me is a balm to my soul. As our conversation meanders from light banter to more personal anecdotes, I find myself sharing parts of me I've kept hidden. The soft light of the candles seems to dissolve the barriers of self-preservation, creating a safe space for vulnerability.
"I've always carried this fear of not measuring up," I admit, my eyes drawn to the gentle flicker of the candlelight. "Not being enough for my son, my family, or myself. That's why I've often resorted to a stern demeanor to keep people at bay. But I'm sure that this need for control can be overwhelming for others."
Mia laughs as she nods, as if agreeing with what I just said.
"I will admit that you can be a bit bossy sometimes, and it upsets me."
"I do apologize about that. I think I have it instilled in me that I have to be in control of things for things to get taken care of correctly. The fellas at the ranch say I have a cowboy's version of OCD, but of course, they don't know what they're talking about."
Mia's response is equally heartfelt. She sighed deeply and began, "There are so many regrets. Paths I never took, opportunities I missed. There were so many moments when I wish I had mustered more courage. Times when taking a risk could have changed everything, but fear has held me back. It's these reflections, these 'what ifs,' that make you ponder the choices you've made.”
She looks embarrassed at confessing this to me as I lay my hand on her knee, urging her to continue, coaxing her into saying whatever is on her mind or in her heart. That she doesn't have to hold back with me.
"I've always worried that I'd look back and regret not living more boldly," she admits. It’s just Mia and me, her voice barely above a whisper amidst the sound of the rain. "That's why I love going to the ranch. I can do anything I put my mind to there, especially trying out riding lessons or feeding the horses."
Our exchange, nestled in the intimacy of the dimly lit room, feels like a balm to the soul. Here we are, unveiling our deepest fears and regrets, not with trepidation but with a sense of understanding and acceptance.
