"I appreciate you so much, sweetheart."
"You make my life so much easier—thank you."
It healed something in me that I didn't even know was hurt. The labor that was unnoticed has finally been seen. I feel seen, appreciated, and so loved by my husband and my sons, too.
Atlas raises an eyebrow at the boys, "Hey, what do you say?"
"Thanks for cooking, Mama," Liam says, smiling at me.
"You're the best cook in the world!" Noah chirps through a mouthful of spaghetti.
Sometimes I have to breathe through the emotions welling up inside of me, blaming my teary eyes on cutting onions.
I thought my life was damn near perfect before, and to me, it probably was. But that's because I wasn't aware of this reality I'm living in.
This is perfection to me.
My husband is healing, talking, and smiling more. Liam is shining so bright with his friends and his Birdie. Noah is so happy with improving his art and becoming so independent.
And me, I feel like a newer, better version of myself—happier, more confident. I feel beautiful, not just my appearance, but who I am. I'm so happy.
And also a little scared that this is fleeting, but like my husband doesn't let his fear rule his love for us anymore, I won't let my fear ruin this. Never.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and when I pull it out, I smile seeing a text from Atlas.
Hi baby.
Meet me at our spot.
Drive safe.
"Our spot, huh?" I laugh, feeling giddy like a teenager all of a sudden.
I slide into my car and start it before I send him a quick message.
On my way. <3
???
"What is this?"
"It's a picnic, baby."
"I see that. But... how did you—"
"I have my ways," Atlas says, taking my hand.
It's a mild mid-March night, Spring has sprung very early it seems. It's usually a bit colder up here, but as Atlas always tells me, he's my space heater, so I'll just have to cuddle close.
I smile at my excited husband as he guides us over to our picnic.
The overlook has always beenour spotto escape to, as teenagers, newlyweds, and new parents. I think of the last time I was here, after the couple's therapy session that Atlas didn't come to.
The hopelessness and grief I felt then are on the complete opposite end of the spectrum from the hopefulness and love I feel coursing through me, especially when I see what Atlas has put together.
My husband has laid out a large blanket, with LED candles strategically placed all around, casting the area in a warm glow, especially paired with the golden hour of the setting sun.
A portable speaker softly plays our favorite song, and I see our blue cooler from the garage, which Atlas opens to reveal a chilled bottle of wine. There are also two sandwiches that he cut into delightfully misshapen hearts that make my own twist in my chest, and a big bag of our favorite spicy chips.
