And when the time inevitably comes, as it will one day for all of us, I'll know I did it right.
"Do they know?" Silas suddenly asks me, and I frown in confusion. He elaborates, "Mom and Dad. Did you tell them?"
"Just that I needed help. They helped me get it."
"I'll... do you want to tell mom and dad?" Silas nods, definitive. "I think I should, it started with me, it should end with me."
"Do you want me there?"
"Nah, you got your family to look after," Silas says, shaking his head, giving me a small smile. "I got it from here."
Silas and I stand, as if of the same mind, and we hug. My brother rubs my back, and I squeeze him tighter, feeling something settle inside of me. "I love you, Si."
He grunts, "I love you too, baby brother."
Silas and I walk back inside, and he gives me a wave as he heads to his car parked in the garage, telling me he'll see me tomorrow morning to drop off Noah at school.
The house is quiet, aside from the hum of the fridge and the dishwasher running. I double-check the doors, making sure they're locked before heading upstairs.
My mind won't settle unless I see them before sleep.
I walk to Noah's room, cracking the door open and seeing him sprawled out on the bed. I smile, keeping my steps as light as I can as I grab the open sketchbook on the bed. He's drawing a new comic book. It's a rough outline, no color, just a sketch, but the words on it make me freeze.
Super Mom and Dad of Steel.
It's Wendy, in spandex and a cape, smiling down at me as she levitates in the air.
And me, looking up at her while I lift a car with one hand, but my expression is pure love.
Is that how Noah sees me looking at his Mama?
The boys are there too, watching us from afar, happy and smiling. I study the picture, feeling my heart grow in my chest as I gently place it on his little desk, turn his nightlight on, and bend down to kiss his head.
"I love you, buddy."
My son Noah, my little artist.
My sunshine boy with his Mama's hair and freckles, who smiles so bright at everyone he meets.
I walk over to Liam's room next, cracking the door open to find him in bed, but his face is illuminated by a screen he tries to hide when he sees me.
His face turns sheepish, and I snort, giving him a look.
"Tell Birdie goodnight."
"Alright," Liam sighs, all teenage melodrama that reminds me ofmewhen my mom would catch me talking on the landline with Wendy late at night.
I grin at my boy and walk over to press a kiss to his dark hair. "I love you, son."
"Love you too, Dad," Liam says, giving me a small smile before putting his phone on his bedside table to charge.
The screen lights up, showing a picture of him and Birdie,him kissing the blonde's cheek and her smiling at the camera.
I guess some things are inherited.
My son, Liam, my basketball star.
My little mini-me, my hair, my eyes, my height, who protects the ones he loves with everything in him.
