I feel my breathing even out.
I feel calm.
I think of my sons.
Of Liam, who looks so much like me, it's uncanny. I think of his sly smile when he teases his brother, his smile when he makes a trick shot, and his laugh when he plays video games with his brother.
Noah, my baby boy, my little ginger rocket, Wendy's red hair, my brown eyes, her freckles, his artist hands drawing pictures and proudly showing us.
I think of the pitter-patter of his feet running to the door when I get home from work, wrapping his arms around my waist, and yelling, "Daddy!"
I think of Liam trailing behind him, spinning a basketball inhis hand, and asking if we can shoot around before dinner.
I think of Wendy peeking her head out the kitchen doorway and telling us dinner will be ready in fifteen, and I make a beeline to her because before I do anything else when I get home, I need to kiss her.
And I do, while our boys yellewbehind us, but I don't care because I missed my baby all day.
I missed my family. I'm home. And I'm safe.
"My wife is..." I inhale, hold, exhale. "...okay. She's okay. She's okay."
"Yes," Dr. Mason says, grinning. "She's okay. So, was the nightmare a thought or a fact?"
"A thought."
"Yes. And what are the facts?"
"My wife is safe. My boys are safe. I am safe."
Dr. Mason smiles. "Yes, Atlas."
I nod, repeating the mantra in my head.
My wife is safe. My boys are safe. I am safe.
"This is going to happen again," Dr. Mason tells me plainly, shrugging his shoulders. "We cannot control the thoughts, but we can work through them. Don't run from fear, don't argue with it—dive in and work through it. Ask yourself, what are the facts?"
"Wendy is safe, at home, with our boys. They're safe with her. I am safe. I am at Story Grove."
"And why are you here at Story Grove?"
"To get better."
Dr. Mason smiles approvingly.
"And that's how we get better."
???
"How do you feel today?"
"Good."
"Nightmare last night?"
My lips curve into a grin. "No, actually."
"That's good. How does the medication feel?"
