This is you after spending hours cracked out in the tiny half-bath in our Nags Head home, replacing the flooring. Breaking your back, sweating, and yet still smiling and proud of the work you completed. This is you. Hardworking. Sincere. Authentic. My One. True. Love.
This is you with your very first harvest of tomatoes in 2012. You were so proud and it shows in the picture. So does your incredible body at 40 years old. You work hard, Emmett, and I am so proud to call you my husband.
This is you with all three of our daughters. Little do they realize, they hit the jackpot when it comes to daddies. You were literally born to do this. To be a model father. You sacrifice on their behalf. You spend quality time with them Every. Single. Day. Picking the garden, swinging, building sand castles…
15 minutes here, 5 minutes there. A survival technique, part of our evolution as a growing family, these stolen moments sustain and fulfill us.
It began with an infatuation. Absorbing one another like the Vitamin D saturating our skin on those endless beach days. The dust settled in my apartment as my toothbrush claimed precious real estate on his bathroom sink. His place became ours.
Time passed, my belly grew. Date nights peppered our calendar, gradually lessening in frequency as my belly grew, grew and grew again. We treasured time together on the couch if we managed to get all of them asleep before we turned in, ourselves. If not, a quick kiss or a lingering hug sufficed.
Time with mommy became time with sissies. Mommy & Me music class turned into a dance party after breakfast, time at the salon to painting nails on our bathroom floor. Time with mommy became precious.
Not as long, no. Not what it used to be.
Instead, richer, full of more hearts, sharing the beat of the same bloodline.
Stolen moments layering the patchwork of our years.