“Even better. Like a secret identity. Nobody will recognize you’re really Sky the Superhero if you’re wearing regular clothes.”
Sky considers this with the seriousness of a two-year-old contemplating matters of national importance. She sits up, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “What my name?”
“Hmm…” I tap my chin thoughtfully. “How about Sky the Magnificent?”
“Okay,” Sky declares with a dramatic sigh, as if she’s making a tremendous sacrifice. “But me pick clothes.”
“Deal,” Mark responds, appearing relieved enough to cry himself.
As Sky toddles upstairs to choose her outfit, Mark shifts Graham to his other hip. The baby has calmed down and is now grabbing at his father’s shirt with those perfect, tiny fingers, making little cooing sounds.
“You’re a natural at this,” I tell Mark, surveying the disaster zone that is their kitchen.
“Ha. You should have witnessed me an hour ago.”
Before I can respond, Bella appears at the top of the stairs, and I do a double-take. She’s actually dressed, like really dressed, not in the yoga pants and oversized T-shirts that have become her uniform since Graham was born. Her red hair is styled in loose waves instead of thrown up in a messy bun, and I’m pretty sure she’s wearing makeup. She appears like she’s heading to a job interview, not a girls’ day at the nail salon.
“Is that my sister or did a stranger break into your house?” I call up to her.
“Very funny. How do I look?” she asks, doing a little spin in front of us.
“Like someone who might actually be related to me,” I tease, but the truth is she looks beautiful. Different than before kids, but beautiful in this new way, like she’s grown into herself somehow. There’s a confidence there that wasn’t there before, mixed with a softness that comes from understanding exactly what you’re capable of.
“Sky’s picking out her outfit,” Mark reports, bouncing Graham, who has started to fuss again. “Fair warning: she’s in a very… creative phase.”
“As long as she’s wearing something when you take her to the zoo, I don’t care if it’s a Halloween costume and rain boots.”
Mark leans over and kisses Bella’s cheek, a quick gesture that’s probably more routine than romance at this point, but there’s something sweet about the way his hand briefly touches her waist, the way she automatically reaches up to smooth Graham’s hair as he passes by.
“Have fun,” he mentions. “Try to remember you’re more than just Mom today.”
“I’ll try. Text me if Graham won’t take the bottle, and there are extra diapers in the bag on the counter, and his schedule is on the fridge, and if Sky has a meltdown about the special socks?—”
“Bella.” Mark’s voice is gentle but firm. “I’ve got this. Go be Freya’s sister for a few hours.”
“I understand, I understand. But…” She trails off, glancing around the chaotic kitchen like she’s memorizing it. “I’ve never left him for more than two hours.”
“And he’ll be fine. I promise. We’ll probably nap, won’t we, buddy?” He addresses this last part to Graham, who responds by grabbing a handful of his dad’s hair.
Watching them together, I feel that familiar ache again. It’s not that I’m jealous, exactly. It’s more like longing. They have something I’m starting to realize I want more than I used to admit to myself.
When I was younger, the idea of settling down felt limiting, like giving up on adventure and spontaneity. Marriage seemed like something that happened to other people, people who were ready to give up their independence and freedom. But observing Bella and Mark navigate this beautiful chaos together, I’m starting to think maybe I had it backwards. Maybe the real adventure is building something with another person. Maybe the real freedom comes from having someone who understands all your worst qualities and chooses to love you anyway.
Sky thunders down the stairs wearing a tutu, striped tights, a dinosaur T-shirt, and cowboy boots. The combination shouldn’t work, but somehow on her, it absolutely does. She’s also wearing approximately seventeen hair clips and what appears to be every piece of costume jewelry she owns.
“Me ready!” she announces, striking a superhero pose that nearly sends her toppling over.
“Perfect,” I declare, and I mean it. “You appear magnificent.”
“I look like superhero?”
“The most magnificent superhero I’ve ever encountered.”
Sky beams and runs to hug my legs. “You come zoo?”
“Not today, bug. I’m taking Mommy for a special girls’ day.”
“When I big, I come girls’ day?”
