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That shit’s almost scary.
Our littlest of the bunch, Ruby, is a princess in everything she does. She’s the one who physically resembles me the most, but the similarities end there. I’m brash where she’s almost ethereal, so very delicate in everything she does. Even the first steps she took on this earth were pondered and graceful. She didn’t crawl at all, just skipped it and went straight to walking, and I don’t mean waddling around as her siblings had before her. I mean, just straight up walking like she fucking owned the place and everything in it. She’s the most Gabriel of us all. If my mother hadn’t been such a bitch and hadn’t fucked up her chance to be in my kids’ lives, she would be one proud grandmother right now. The type of elegance my angel has is just otherworldly and not the kind you can buy with a private school education.
She loves the piano, of course, and I’ve been teaching her for the last six months or so.
She’s twice the talent I was at four, and I’ve been called a prodigy a time or two, and every time she hears a nocturnal or a prelude by one of the old masters, she gets moved. With real tears and all. It’s so precious it leaves me speechless.
My kids have an early bedtime normally and are never up past 7:30 p.m., but when my oldest, the criminal in training, heard I was coming home tonight, she begged her mommy to let her wait for me awake and involved her siblings in her little plot.
When I got home three hours ago, I found them all in a cuddly pile of arms and legs on our sofa in front of the gas-lit fireplace, all snuggled up with their mommy and our 10-month-old Australian Shepherd, Cobain –that anybody would think I named myself, but would be wrong because it was our little Raven that picked this name for him, I kid you not. All of them fighting valiantly to stay awake so they could greet me.
Most people would think I’m lucky because I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth in a household that had more money than a hundred people wouldn’t spend in a thousand lifetimes. They would be wrong.
Some people would think I’m lucky because I got to fulfill my dream of sharing the music that ignites my soul with millions upon millions of adoring fans all around the world.
They also would be wrong, at least in part.
That cuddly little pile of bodies, those eyes fighting to stay open to wait for me.
The yells of “Daddy, Daddy!” as soon as they heard me come into the room, the jumping up and down and around me as they tried to climb me, the happy barking of my pup renting the air even louder in the general ruckus, my oldest princess belting out lyrics to my latest song.
And their mother.
My woman. As beautiful as a vision. As essential to me as the last drop of water in a dried-up oasis in the desert. Her eyes misting as she looked up at me.
That maddening little dimple on her cheek as she smiled.
That’s the stuff that really makes me a lucky man. That’s the stuff I’ll be forever grateful for.
* * *
Somethingwet and cold sliding down my face wakes me up with a start.
I open one eye to find Cobain’s furry while and blonde muzzle an inch away from my mouth, his intelligent blue eyes studying me in the gray, milky light of the budding day.
I blink away sleep and smile when I hear soft giggles all around me.
It appears the dog isn’t our only pre-dawn guest.
Our kids have all crawled in bed with us –thank God, I set that alarm and got myself and my woman in some clothes. They’re having a whispered sim-com convo with their mommy.
I see their little hands flying all over the place, fingers dancing in the air as they all sign and talk with my little beauty.
ASL is second nature to them all. Hopefully, I can keep their uncle Jared from teaching them how to swear for a little bit longer.
As soon as the damn dog signals to them that I’m awake by trampling on me and giving out one single, loud, happy bark, pandemonium ensues.
My very energetic kids jump all over me, squealing like mad, little hands clapping and grabbing for me as they start with their “Daddy, Daddy” chorus.
I hear my wife laugh and scoot a little bit closer to her, dragging all of my little passengers with me while Cobain goes to steal the warm place I’ve just vacated under the covers.
I pull Mia to my side and kiss her.
My little mischievous criminal startsewwwingour way, and soon my other two little monsters join in with the grimaces and the gagging noises.
Ryan, laughingly.
Ruby, elegantly, of course.
