There’s been so much laughter all week, good food, and amazing company that I can’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.
Our oldest, Gabe, has disappeared with some of his older cousins, but the younger kids are helping out.
“I don’t want to stick my hands in the dirt,” my niece Evelyn says. “A worm is going to bite me.”
My mom tries to hide a laugh as she smiles at her. “Worms don’t bite,” she says softly. “Look, I’ll show you.”
They’re kneeling in front of the garden and my mom pulls out an earthworm from the soil, showing it wiggling around on her palm. My mom’s hair is long and gray, her face is showing some wrinkles, but she looks good. She looks happy. And that makes me happy.
I lean against the porch railing with a mug of coffee and take it all in, my chest tight with something that feels a lot like overwhelming gratitude.
June is working in another garden with my sister, Freya, although they’re chatting more than they’re working. My heart squeezes when I see her tilt her head back and laugh. Will I ever get tired of watching this amazing woman?
Her hair is pulled into a messy knot and there’s a streak of dirt on her left cheek. It reminds me of the first time I saw her when she was caked in soot and ash from the fire. I thought she was the most perfect thing I’d ever seen and I still do.
Motherhood suits her well. She’s the best and our children adore her.
I smile as I watch her hands moving the way they always have—eccentric, excited, pure June.
She still runs her shop in town and of course, it’s a huge success. She still makes more pottery than I can wrap my head around, working so hard for all of us. She’s expanded the studio twice now, added apprentices, started teaching workshops. People come from all over just to learn from her.
We built a massive studio on our ranch, renovating the huge barn into a studio that she claims she’ll never grow out of, but knowing her, it probably won’t take long. She has four kilns now and each one costs more than her entire first studio did.
She’s incredible.
And I get to come home to her.
Every night.
I’m still working at the fire station, and still loving it. It’s my second home, but nothing can compare to this.
“You did well, son,” Dad says as he comes over, sliding his arm on my shoulder and looking out at everyone working. The huge family together. He clinks my coffee cup with his and smiles.
“You did well too, Dad,” I say smiling back at him. “Thanks for leading the way.”
“I never told you,” he says as he takes a sip of coffee, the lines around his mouth more visible than ever, “but I’m so proud of you for going your own way and following your passion.”
I feel a lump in my throat when I see the pride in his eyes.
“My son, the firefighter,” he says, nodding. “You don’t know how many people I bragged about you to.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, giving him a hug. “For everything.”
We join in the fun, making planter boxes with my brother-in-laws and filling them with soil while my sisters argue about fertilizer ratios and openly wonder where their teenagers are.
Dad’s got a shovel in his hands, helping one of the kids dig a new bed and Mom’s directing traffic like she’s running an operating room.
That’s when I catch June’s eye across the yard.
She gives me that look and I know what she needs.
We gave my parents our room for the week and we’re shacked up in Evelyn’s room with Freya and her husband Tommy.
Family time has been great, but I miss my alone time with my girl.
And I can tell she’s missing it too.
She gives me those lustful eyes and then saunters into her pottery studio, swaying her ass a little to drive me crazy.
