EPILOGUE
Thane: Ten Years Later
Phones ringing and email notifications are the soundtrack of my workday.
When one thing gets crossed off my list, two more pop up in its place.
Most days I drown at the office, or barely keep my head above water.
It’s a high-traffic firm, but I’m grateful that I get to work alongside my dad everyday.
Before everyone else meanders in at nine, dad and I make a fresh pot of coffee in his office and sit in the sunlight against the windows.
It keeps me grounded, focused, and in line with what matters in this life: family.
But the real joy in my life comes from what happens outside the high-rise.
When I leave the parking garage, I slough off the stress of the day and listen to my favorite podcast on my way home.
I want to be in tip-top shape by the time I pull into the garage, because home is where I do my most important work.
I leave my CFO title in the city, because my most important roles are husband and daddy.
I pull into our neighborhood, and my home with the basketball hoop in the driveway and bikes tossed carelessly on the lawn, sits in the distance.
It’s just as I dreamed it would be; perfectly imperfect.
As a young man, I tried to convince myself that nice things, money, and travel would be enough to fulfill me for life.
That providing those things was my duty as a man.
But I was wrong. She is what fulfills me.
Anything I give to her, she multiplies and makes it better.
I give her a house, and she makes it a home.
I give her groceries, and she makes a meal.
I give her love, and she gives me a family.
I could work a million hours at the office, and give her riches beyond her wildest dreams, and it still wouldn’t come close to what she gives back to me.
I am beyond grateful when I watch her work her beautiful magic in our little life.
She shapes our home, our children, and our marriage so beautifully, I just stand back and watch her glow.
The truth is, I will never overcome the belief that I’m not good enough for her.
I’m not. But I will go to my grave trying to be the man she deserves.
The man my children deserve. And I live each day with that goal in mind; to be a better man than I was the day before.
As I pull into the cul-de-sac, a little girl with long, dark pigtails meets me at the corner like she does every day to race me home.
I pull up to my make-believe starting line, and she crouches—her face painted with the determination that today she’s going to win.
I grip the steering wheel and rev the engine.
She looks over at me and flashes me her toothless grin.
She is her mother through and through, and my heart swells at how much I love her. I roll down the window.
“I’m gonna win this time!” I yell to her on the sidewalk.
“No you won’t!” she yells back, with Sera’s inextinguishable fire in her eyes.
“On your mark, get set, go!” I shout, and she takes off like a rocket.
I go fast enough to challenge her, but slow enough let her win. She dances like a football player after a touchdown on the lawn, and I laugh.
“I’ll get you next time!” I say, climbing out of the car.
She runs to hug me and I toss everything in my hands back onto my car seat just in time to catch her. I hug her as long as she’ll let me.
A boy that’s stubborn like his mom but determined like his dad throws a series of free-throws toward the hoop until he finally makes it in. Then he bounces the ball to me. I make it on the first shot and he groans.
“Come on, dad! How come you always make it on the first try?”
“Lots of practice,” I reply, passing the rebounded ball back toward him. “You’ll get there.”
He sticks out his tongue in determination and takes another shot, this time it’s nothing but net.
“See, Buddy? You’re already getting better!”
I ruffle his hair and collect my things from the car.
That’s when I see her.
She’s standing on the porch in her favorite sundress; with our toddler on her hip, and her hair up off her neck because it’s “just too hot to be pretty.” She doesn’t realize that she’d be pretty with a garbage bag dress and a bald head—though I tell her so every day.
My heart swoops, and not in an infatuation kind of way, but in an, “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to love her,” kind of way.
I watch her from the driveway, thanking God that He gave me exactly what I’d hoped for—and then some.
When she meets my eyes, she smiles that wide smile that she reserves just for me and waves as I cross the driveway.
And I run to kiss her—because I can finally breathe again.
The End