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“Yes, Daddy!” they shout in unison.
And Dorian swings us all, and we all laugh together under the shade of the old oak.
When the kids hop down from my lap to run after a butterfly, I turn to Dorian and place my hand over his heart.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what?” I ask.
“Thank you for this moment. For this life. One I almost didn’t have if you hadn’t returned to Chicago.” He brushes off a strand of hair and pulls me tight into his arms.
Time stops. It simply doesn’t exist.
This moment is not countable in minutes or seconds.
This moment is eternal and forever present.
We are.
THE END(so far)
