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Briar placed a weathered hand around the worn, brass doorknob. Laughter rose into my ears as she paused, just outside our little home. Her misty eyes closed, wrinkles from years and years of laughter lined her lips that were as beautiful as the day we’d met. The novelty of her had never worn off, despite all the years and adventures we’d been through.

“Hurry up, Goldie, the grandkids are waiting for us,” I teased, and she pushed some of her silver hair behind her hair.

“I just needed to catch my breath for a moment,” she breathlessly replied, rolling her eyes. Steadying myself on the railing, I was silently grateful that she did, because I couldn’t lie, my legs didn’t quite work like they used to.

“The horses are all loaded for the Fourth of July rodeo and parade, right?” she asked for about the seventh time in the past hour.

“Of course,” I gently answered, not annoyed at all. I’d take her asking the same thing twelve hundred more times if it meant living one more day with her.

“Okay, good,” she answered, shrugged the halter up her shoulders, and opened the door. Loud and chaotic was the easiest way to describe the scene upon entering. There were half-eaten cookies that were supposed to have made it over to Weston and Tenley’s house strewn about on the kitchen counters. There were rocking horses straddled by kids racing across carpet that had seen better days. Giggles erupted into the air as one grandkid tackled the other.

Who would’ve thought this was where my life would lead?

“Nana!” one granddaughter screamed, jumping into my wife’s arms. Briar gave her a big hug and carefully carried the little girl over to her mom in the kitchen.

“Pop-Pop, who do you think won the race?” one of our grandsons shouted above the chaos, waving me over to the crowded family room. The coffee table, worn with stains and scratches, was pushed off to the side to make room for the wooden rocking horses.

“I don’t get to compete!” another grandson whined. Seven years old, his curly hair a bit disheveled, he leaned back and lifted his leg. “See? I sprained my ankle, and Mom says that I can’t put pressure on it for at least a week. How am I supposed to live like this? I won’t get to ride in the parade this year either!”

“It’s temporary, Luke, let it go,” his sister grumbled.

Setting my halter down by Briar’s, I kicked my boots off and sauntered into the kitchen as my wife carefully pulled herself onto a stool. “It’s okay, Luke. You’ll be able to walk again, just give your body time to heal,” Briar gently said.

“No, Nana, all hope is lost! I’m doomed!” Luke leaned even farther back in the recliner and wailed at the ceiling.

“There’s always hope, no matter what the circumstance is,” Briar replied.

“How would you know? You have the perfect life with Pop-Pop,” Luke grumbled.

I stopped beside Briar and helped her stand up from the stool. “Because I was once unable to walk too. For over a year, I had no ability to move either of my legs at all and there was a moment I thought I’d never be able to ride a horse again, let alone walk down the aisle to marry your Pop-Pop,” she answered, and all noise whisked out of the house through the open windows.

That first year of our relationship flashed briefly in my head. The hours spent in rehab, my hands on her waist as she took that first step. The stretching, the swimming, the appointments. There’d been a drive in her during it all that I’d never seen before. A determination that was evidence of the courage she found to steal Sundance. It made me fall even more in love with her than ever before. The hardest year of my life was watching Briar learn how to walk again.

And the proudest.

There was never another moment that these kids had ever been so quiet. Briar chuckled as she slipped her arm around my waist, and I threw mine over her shoulders. “What happened?” Luke asked, sheepishly.

“Believe it or not, it all happened because of that horse right there.” Briar pointed toward the massive, fading photo hanging above the fireplace set into the wall the recliners faced. There he was, the stallion that changed my life in a way I’d never anticipated. Seated upon him was Briar, her beautiful golden hair wrapped around her body as I stood on the ground holding our second kid, our first son, right beside her.

“Because of Sundance Kid?” Luke gasped. “Didn’t you and Pop-Pop both win a lot of reined-cow horse competitions on him? Wasn’t Mom practically born while you were riding him?” he finished.

She nodded. “Would you like to hear the story?”

Every kid in the room nodded so fervently, I swear a brief breeze danced across my face.

“Mom! Where’s the toilet paper?” our youngest son yelled from the bathroom, and Briar exhaled, glancing away from the group of expectant kids.

“How about this,” I began, walking forward and placing my own hands on the back of the recliner Luke laid in. “I’ll start the story while Nana helps out our grown child, who should know where the toilet paper is. It’s not like he hasn’t been alive for thirty years and should know where it is!” I finished loudly so he could hear.

“Thank you, Dad!” he shouted back sarcastically as Briar kissed my cheek and headed toward the stairs.

“Alright, where should we begin?” I asked and padded over to the other recliner. Plopping myself down with a soft groan, I leaned back against the fabric and scanned the room. Love swelled in my heart. I’d been blessed with such a good life.

The kids shifted and formed a half circle all around me. I took a big breath and began.

“Everything was silent.”