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My red hair is tied back in a bun, a few wisps escaping around my face. Your long blonde hair is free and blowing in the wind, just the way I like it. The sight of you takes my breath away. Our daughter is in my arms. We’re going shopping. It’s the first public outing that the three of us have taken since we adopted her. She’s beautiful. She’s about three now. She has tan skin and dark brown hair with big brown eyes.
We only live a short walk away from the new vintage shop that I’ve had my eye on for months now. So we’re walking. The mid-morning sun is smiling down on us, and the blue sky is like a painting above our heads.
I would normally wear sunglasses or a hat, but I’m not trying to hide today. I want the world to see our family. I’m wearing sandals and a knee-length sundress, a pale blue. You’re in shorts and a t-shirt, a denim jacket draped over your shoulders.
We’re almost to the shop, but we’ve already been recognized several times, and several pictures have been snapped. But it doesn’t bother me in the least. I wave, smile even. You’re a little more hesitant, but I reach over and run a hand through your blonde hair, and you snake your arm around my waist.
The shop is across the street from a park, and when our daughter sees it, she giggles and points, “Bird!” she exclaims. We laugh, and I brush her bangs away from her face.
“Do you want to go watch the birds?” I ask.
She nods excitedly, and I kiss her head.
We take her into the park for a moment and sit on the bench near a tree where numerous birds are flying, perching, singing. Our little girl watches them, transfixed. You and I exchange looks, our eyes almost teary.
We’ve been through so much together, you and I. There was a time when I didn’t know if we would ever make it here. But here we are. I take your hand and interlace our fingers.
There’s a stranger coming towards us, but she is smiling genuinely. I feel slightly weary for just an instant, wondering what anonymity would feel like, wishing that I could experience it again just for a day. But the feelings fade as you squeeze my hand, rub my back gently.
“Florence, Isa, I love you guys! Your daughter is so beautiful! Can I take a picture with you?” says the woman, looking to be around 25, timidly, holding up her phone.
“Certainly.” I say, returning her smile, patting the empty space on the bench to my right. She sits down, and we smile.
“Thank you! I can’t wait for more music. You’re such a beautiful family.” the woman gushes, standing up.
I smile shyly, a soft blush rising in my cheeks. I never know how to respond to such compliments, such overwhelming words of adoration.
“Thank you, you’re lovely as well.” you say to her, chuckling, and my smile widens, and I nod. You always know what to say when words fail me.
Then our daughter, having sat quietly in my lap this entire time, decides to speak up. “These are my mommies!” she exclaims, her wide eyes staring at the woman, her little hands clapping, her little smile appearing.
I laugh then, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes. I love her so much, and I hug her tighter, kissing her head. I hear you laugh as well, and I know that you’re filled with as much joy in this moment as I am. You reach over and take her little hand, kissing it gently.
“I see that! That’s wonderful!” says the woman, looking as though she might cry as well. I realize then how grateful I am for people who share in my triumphs, my joys. The good outweighs the bad for me when it comes to my own personal fame.
She bids goodbye, and I take her hand and tell her to take care. She leaves then, and I sigh. My insecurities ebb and flow, rise and fall, and a few of them are creeping up again. “I look a bit rough today, I’m afraid.” I murmur before thinking, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind my ear.
I can almost feel the love radiating from you then, your presence beside me so strong. You’re like a force. How can someone so small be so big?
“No…” you whisper, stroking the side of my neck, your hand coming to rest on a strip of bare skin near my shoulder. I bite my lip, tears coming up again. I look at you, your eyes so reassuring, I lean my forehead against yours then for a moment. Then I kiss your temple, holding it for several seconds, my eyes drifting closed. I feel rather than see your smile.
I swallow then, straightening back up, my arms securely around our daughter, who has been distracted again by the birds and the bustling of vehicles on the street up ahead. It’s so embarrassing to me still, and I’m so hesitant. Public displays of affection are so thrilling, but they make me so nervous.
I’m so emotional, and I think it’s because of how much I love you, and sometimes I feel like if I show that, I’ll combust. I can’t even look at you as you begin to speak, and I can feel your eyes on me. I keep mine locked on the tree a few feet from us.
“Florence… You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Your arm is around my waist, and the love is filling me, the warmth spreading around me like a cocoon, and nothing matters but this moment. I feel your chin rest on my shoulder, and your free hand rests on top of my wrist as I hold our daughter. I feel the blush again, and I’m smiling slightly in spite of myself. You have that effect on me. I can never control myself.
I feel your breath against my ear as you say, “Don’t ever let anyone make you feel any different. You’re perfect.” Your love is so strong, and it mingles with mine, and suddenly we’re no longer of this world. We’ve built our own reality, and everything about it is overflowing with happiness.