When Julien looked at me, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I have no idea where she gets this from.”
“No idea at all,” I agreed, trying not to laugh.
“Can we add kissing to the schedule?” Stella asked, appearing beside her sister. “I think Mama and Daddy should kiss more. It makes good energy.”
“Good energy isn’t a real thing,” Luna said.
“Yes, it is!”
“No, it’s not!”
“Mama, tell her!”
I looked at Julien. He looked at me.
And we both started laughing.
Because this—this beautiful chaos, this perfect imperfection, this blend of logic and magic and love—this was our life.
This was what the universe promised me.
This was what I was destined for.
Not just Julien, though he was the center of it all.
Not just our children, though they were the greatest gift I’d ever received.
But this whole beautiful, messy, cosmic adventure.
This journey of learning to balance order and chaos, planning and spontaneity, logic and faith.
This life we’d built together, brick by brick, spreadsheet by spiritual awakening, eye twitch by cosmic intervention.
“Come on,” I said, standing up and reaching for Julien’s hand. “Let’s go play.”
“But the schedule—” Luna started.
“We’re revising the schedule,” Julien said, taking my hand and letting me pull him up. “New item: family playtime. No time limit.”
Luna considered this. “That’s very inefficient.”
“That’s very fun,” Stella countered.
“Can we play dinosaurs?” Atlas asked hopefully.
“We can play whatever you want,” I said.
And we did.
We played dinosaurs and hospital and tree-climbing supervision and beetle observation. We revised Luna’s schedule seventeen times. We created “good energy” according to Stella’s specifications. We answered Atlas’s questions about how clouds form and why the sky was blue and whether beetles had feelings.
We laughed until our sides hurt.
We made memories that would last forever.
We lived.
Fully, completely, cosmically.
