Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“The other two are with friends,” Jade told me as, no more than two minutes later, our kid was back outside and tearing down the street on the skateboard at a speed that even made me anxious.
“Really?” I asked, glancing back toward the house. “It’s empty?”
“I think this might be the first time ever,” Jade said, turning to give me a soft smile. “I don’t know if I’m finding it sad or exciting.”
I understood what she was saying.
We’d spent the last nineteen years eating, sleeping, and breathing parenting. And now, well, we were only a couple more years away from all those kids being out on their own.
It was a bittersweet thing, having your kids grow up. Bitter, because not having them around was going to hurt like hell. Sweet, though, because we knew we’d done a good job with them, that they had everything they needed to live successful lives outside of our home.
“Well, seeing as they will all be home before bed, I think we can go ahead and be excited,” I said, letting my hand drift down to grab her ass.
“I like the way you think,” she said, turning in my arms to wrap her arms around my neck, then leaning up for a long, lingering kiss that quickly went from sweet to heated.
Reaching down, I gathered up her skirt to just below her ass, then lifted her up.
Her legs went around my waist as I turned and walked us into the house.
The same house that I’d once wanted to work out the kinks of. But now, I couldn’t imagine it without its sweet little imperfections.
The gouge in the living room molding from our eldest riding his little motorized car into it early one Christmas morning.
The lines on the doorway into the kitchen, marking all four of the kids’ growth.
The window in the bathroom that once creaked and let us know one of the kids had decided to sneak out then climb back in through it.
The hall closet door that featured a mural done by our five-year-old daughter while Jade and I had accidentally slept in one Sunday morning.
And, yeah, that screen door that still cracked against the jamb as I carried Jade inside.
That sound now made me think of little kids running in and out all day long, letting bugs and lizards in that we would spend the night chasing and relocating.
I couldn’t imagine a home without every single one of those features. That evidence of all of the years of love and happiness that had existed inside. The generational cycles that had been broken.
All of it, every last bit, thanks to the amazing woman with her kind soul and giant heart.
And her incredibly convenient love of all things easy-access skirts, I thought as I carried her into the bedroom and kicked the door closed behind us.