Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I hold my hands up. “I know, I know, you don’t like hearing about how much Mommy loves you, about how you’re my little pumpkin...”
She laughs at lifts her paintbrush up. “Don’t make me use this.”
Giggling, I leave the room and walk through our house, the sound of my husband and the boys filtering in through the open windows. My husband is roaring like a monster and the boys are laughing, splashing loudly as they try to get away from him.
I pause outside Christopher’s room, closing my eyes and savoring the moment, as my mind flits over the past ten years.
I think about the first art show I did, how nervous I was, and then how delighted I felt when I made my first sale. There have been many sales since then, countless, and yet nothing has filled me with such joy as watching Zack’s face light up as he cradled our children for the first time.
I think about the award Zack won a couple of years ago for his work in the inner-city, the way he was able to smile freely as he posed for the photo, my handsome rugged love-filled man.
And I think about that nervous girl who wrote a letter at a shopping center one day, who never could’ve dreamed where it would lead, that even if taking a chance is the most terrifying thing a nervous person can do, it was so, so, so worth it.
Opening my eyes, I push the door open and walk over to Christopher’s crib, gazing down at my son. He’s our quiet fifth, sleeping far more peacefully than any of the others did.
As I gaze down, his eyes blink open and his lips twitch.
Reason tells me he’s too young to smile.
But my heart tells me that all the happiness in our home, all the love and hope, and contented beauty, doesn’t give a heck about reason.
“Hello, my little man,” I whisper, reaching down to pick him up.
I cradle him to my chest, my heart melting when he makes a precious cooing noise.
To think it all started with a letter to my dear soldier.