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20 YEARS LATER | CATALINA ISLAND

“You have to be quiet, Mara!” Jack hissed. “They’ll never come back if you don’t stop talking. Greenie came close before you started running your mouth.”

“Well, excuse me. I’m just excited for your birthday.”

I was excited for more than Jack’s birthday. Our kids were all coming out to surprise him, and I had hot plans for us to go on a birding excursion. We went birding fairly often, but it was harder to get to Jack’s favorite part of the island.

Our house was closer to town so I could get on a boat and get medical care if needed quickly. We generally spent the summer months on the island, and stuck to our mainland apartment when I went through tougher spells. I liked to paint at the Catalina house, and I was happy to say my skills had come a good long way since I actually had time to spend on it.

But the kids always liked coming out to the island, and we were happy to give them a place to land.

“This is all I want to do,” he said. Jack sat in his favorite chair on our porch on Catalina, wearing his favorite red shirt to attract hummingbirds to his feeder hat. We still didn’t keep pets, just yard pets, mostly because we had a slightly nomadic life. Jack stayed busy with hockey programs, commentary, and occasional coaching and workshops with current L.A. Princes. I volunteered at the local food bank, working with the local grocery stores to arrange regular donations of on-the-verge foods.

We sat in silence and I sipped my mug of green tea, looking out over the ocean. Despite his grouching, Jack reached for my knee, giving it a squeeze and a rub.

Suddenly, he squeezed three times for me to look at him, and his favorite hummingbird, the one he named Greenie, was feeding right in front of his face.

A gentle smile softened Jack's face as he studied his favorite yard pet up close. Slowly, he lifted his finger, and Greenie fluttered down to perch on it.

Jack’s eyes bulged. No matter how many times he got Greenie to sit on his finger, it thrilled him.

And it thrilled me to see him happy. We were still making each other happy in the bedroom, not changing from the kinky little freaks we are. No matter how old we got, Jack was still the perfect mix of a brat and a good boy.

I sat up to my fresh canvas and tried to start capturing Jack’s joy with Greenie.

Jack always said he wanted to rot after hockey.

If this was what rotting looked like for us, I was glad to be spoiled rotten.