“Okay,” he grins. I put him down and him and Stella take after the goats and chickens milling about on the side of the house.
“Hey there, handsome, how was your day?” Kendall asks as she walks towards me in a yellow sun dress, our one and a half year old daughter in her arms. We’ve been married for almost three years. I’ve loved her for most of my life, and it never ceases to amaze me how beautiful she is.
How lucky I am.
I yawn, exhausted from a long day's work even though I spend my days doing what I love and would therefore consider it a stretch to call it work.
“It was good. The budget is going to be tight this year again,” I respond, kissing my daughter's head and drooly adorable face as Kendall hands her to me. My wife burrows into my chestbefore she clasps her arms around my neck and lifts up on tip toes to kiss me. It’ll never get old, her kissing me like I’ve been the only thing on her mind all day. Like no matter how much we see each other, it will never be enough. Like I’m the line of her favorite song, a story she never tires of hearing.
She sighs into my mouth. “I missed you, what’s this about the budget being tight?”
“We need new uniforms for the juniors and seniors and another Zamboni…which means our bathroom remodel will have to be put on pause again,” I tell her.
She smiles. It's patient, kind, and warm. “That’s okay, we’ve suffered with one and a half bathrooms for three years. We’ll be fine for a few more.”
“Are you sure? We’ve been putting it off for so long.”
“Of course I’m sure. The club needs it and that’s more important, Kai,” she decides, kissing my cheek.
“I’m sorry, Ken. I feel awful.”
“Don’t. Really, it’s okay,” she tells me, squeezing my hand.
While we aren’t exactly hurting in the money department, we don’t have unlimited funds either. That way of living is long gone. Kendall has a very generous salary at the firm she works at but she also does a lot of pro-bono work. She has the biggest heart and difficulty saying no to people. She graduated at the top of her class and began working at a small firm close to home that specializes in family law. She spends her days helping families fight for custody and prospective parents adopt children, and she loves it. She’s put down roots in this place, found her footing and so have I. I’ve learned how to pivot, how to heal, what to prioritize and how to let go.
I’ve rebuilt the hockey program and youth clubs from the ground up. And I’m damn proud of it and what I’ve been able to accomplish since we moved here. People depend on me, look to me to solve problems, and I like being someone they canalways count on. To fix things, create schedules, to ensure the club runs smoothly, that all positions are properly staffed and all the patrons are satisfied. Along with a hundred other unnamed, trivial duties that are not at all in my purview but somehow became my responsibility. And I like that too. That this job is like second nature to me—hockey being part of my blood, in the fabric of my DNA—but that it also comes with inconsistencies. Things that are so bizarre or unpredictable that you can’t possibly make it up. Like figuring out how to safely move a family of bats living in the ceiling above the snack shop to a more ideal location without harming them.
I’m not rich anymore, not like I used to be. But it doesn’t matter. We’re rich in love. Smiles. Happiness. Peace. And a million small moments we wish we could freeze forever. And isn’t that what it’s all about anyways? How lucky are we that we have a life so beautiful, so full and bursting with warmth and possibilities that we get to fall in love with it all over again every day.
