We’d all got dressed up (kind of, the girls did, the boys wore nice shirts and jeans) and the photographer had taken our picture in front of the house. Mickey and me in the middle pressed close, his arm around my shoulders, mine around his waist. His other arm was around Pippa. My other one was wrapped around Cillian’s chest. He was standing slightly in front of me (something he couldn’t do now since he’d had a growth spurt in the time that had past and was now taller than me). Ash was beside me. She’d been caught laughing, her eyes to the camera, her cheek to my shoulder, her arms around my middle. Auden was standing close on the other side of his sister, holding her hand.

Outside Ash, who was laughing, we were all smiling.

Happy.

Now, printed huge, beautifully framed with two lovely sconces arching over it to make it an even bigger feature than it already was, that picture hung by the dining room table, pictorial evidence I had everything a woman could need.

Me and my family floating on a cloud of blue, blinded by a flash of happy.

Mickey ended the silence.

“You saw it.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

“Same here.”

I smiled and fought back the tears.

It took some time, Mickey gave me that time, and when I succeeded, I asked, “Have a taste for anything for dinner?”

“I’ll get Tink’s, bring it home,” he answered.

“Then we’ll eat Tink’s at the dining room table.”

His voice was soft when he replied, “Works for me.”

It worked for me too. He had his kids. I had mine.

So it worked perfectly.

“See you later, honey,” I said.

“Yeah, baby. See you.”

We hung up.

I walked to the picture and flicked the new light switch that now had five dimmer controls. One for the chandelier over the dining table. One for the kitchen lights. One for the kitchen pendants. One for the living room lights.

And one for my picture.

It was daytime. I didn’t need that light.

But from that day forward, whenever I was home, that picture was lit.

Every day.

Reminding me, even though I knew it down to my soul, that I had all I needed.

* * * * *

I wandered down the hall to the den, and once I hit it, I went right to the desk and dumped the bags and my purse on top. I slid the envelope out of one then dug in the other and pulled out the tissue wrapped parcel. I unwrapped it unveiling the pretty frame I’d bought at the reopened shop on the jetty.

I was about to put the picture I’d had printed at Walgreens in it when my phone in my purse rang.

I set aside the frame and picture, dug my phone out, looked at the display and took the call.

“Hey,” I greeted.