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“I think what I realized was that I would do anything for you because you own me. After that I just decided you would be mine too.”

I laugh at his corny ridiculously. I don’t care anymore how we came together, only that we did.

“Come on wife, let me show you around our new house. I think I know the perfect place to build you a library.”

I pull back shocked and admittedly excited.

“Really?”

“Of course. I’ll even build you one of those window seats you’re always going on about.”

We walk inside and Warren shows me all the clean-up he’s done so far. Mainly taking out all the trash and sweeping, laying down a few boards of plywood where there were holes in the floor to make sure we don’t fall through.

He points to the graffiti and tagging explaining how we can paint over it or cover it with wallpaper, whichever I want. Listing the things that need to be done to repair the old home. The list is long but once it’s done it’ll be our perfect home.

When we reached the stairs, we stop to stare at all the engraved names and dates, some of them our own.

“We can sand these out or replace the wood completely if you like,” Warren suggests.

I look over the years of generations that have passed through this house and what it meant to all of them. Removing giant penises and painting over spray paint is one thing, but sanding away the engravings seems wrong somehow.

“What if we didn’t?” I say.

“Didn’t what?”

“Remove the stairs or the carvings. What if we preserved it? Like a monument to the years this house was the hangout house. Besides, our names are carved up there too.”

Warren looks at the stairs and considers it. Thankfully no one was ever skilled enough to carve pornographic images into the wood. It’s all names and dates and hearts mostly.

“Okay. I think that’s a great idea. I’m sure we can figure out a way to preserve it.”

We wander through the rest of the house discussing which rooms will be which. Deciding on building my library in the den space with the stained glass over the entryway. There are plenty of rooms in the old house to have a handful of kids and not run out of room.

I picture that, our future, and how many children we may have together. The birthday parties and bar-be-ques we’ll have here. I picture Gigi sitting in a rocking chair on the porch sipping iced tea and the gaggle of children Warren wants running around in the yard, aunt Izzy and Uncle Owen chasing after them.

The dream is one I never expected but can’t wait to get started on.

Epilogue: Warren

Five years later

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Noah, happy birthday to you!”

The entire crowd cheers on our front lawn as Noah blows out all five sparkling candles on his cake. There are robots on it because no matter how often I take him fishing he still likes robots better. Guess I’m just the boring dad that likes fishing. I think eventually Noah will find his love for the sea but it’s not as prominent as mine.

Harper, however, loves spending time with her daddy on the small fishing boat we bought two years ago. My little girl is definitely a daddy’s girl and loves being on the water with me. Not so much the fishing part but that’s okay, I’ll take what I can get.

We had Harper two years after Noah was born and the third one is well on their way, cooking in Bambi’s womb as we speak. Although all of my children are gifts and wanted, none were specifically planned. We figured whatever happens, happens and we’ll be happy with however many we’re given. Gigi is ecstatic about all the great grandchildren, all of which also call her Gigi. It’s a lot easier for a toddler to pronounce than great grandma.

Noah immediately pulls out the candles and starts licking the cake and frosting off the bottom and demanding a corner piece as Bambi begins cutting small squares from the dessert. Ella, Izzy and James’ daughter is right at Noah’s side mimicking his demand for a corner piece but in a much quieter and more polite manner. She’s basically his shadow and looks up to him, copying everything he does. She’s a year younger than him and those two are peas in a pod.

We’ve decorated the front yard for the celebration. We don’t really have a “backyard” since there’s so much land around our house, we just kind of use it all. There are blue and yellow balloons, a life size cardboard cutout of a robot, and streamers everywhere. Izzy is once again responsible for the decorations. Her party planning business stemming from her love of planning everyone’s birthdays and baby showers and growing into an actual career. We’re all happy about it, except that now we have to pay her for her time. But she’s worth it.

Our house fits perfectly with her decorations since Bambi decided she wanted to paint it a soft ocean blue and white. It took nearly a year to get everything completed after buying it, but we had plenty of help from our friends. Now it’s our perfect family home filled with color, mismatched furniture, an engraved history of the past on our stairs, and plenty of laughter.

Staring at the house now I couldn’t imagine my life being anything other than what it is and I’m thankful everyday that I came back home.

Owen wanders over and slaps me on the back pulling me from my revelry, before wrapping an arm around my neck.