The house was clean and quiet. The ideal environment for me to
get all that much needed sleep during the day so I could shuffle my
bones off to work every night. And if I didn't want to sleep
there were always so many fun activities to choose from. From
playing my guitar, reading, writing, going for a drive, or any of six
hundred other activities, I did what I wanted, when I wanted, and no
one could say anything about it. And I thought to myself, "I am
truly free."
Jen and I truly enjoyed our freedom as a couple. At the slightest
hint, we could simply pack up and go, anywhere, anytime. It was a
bonus that I truly enjoy driving; weekend road trips were common.
Together we discovered just exactly why they call Salt Lake City the
hub of the west. There are always so many things to see, so much
to do. We packed the life into our days. And I
thought to myself, "We are truly free."
Life couldn't get any better. Sure, we wanted to have kids and
raise a family, <i>someday</i>. Maybe after we had
both finished college, and had embarked on our mutually prosperous
careers. Maybe after we were out of debt, and had built our dream
house. Maybe after we had visited Australia and Europe.
Maybe after we could build up a little nest egg to live on so Jen
wouldn't have to work while the kids were young. Maybe, someday.
My grandmother told me once that if life were ideal, and things always
went exactly as planned, that the world would be a terribly dull
place. (She always concluded with something about a guy called
"Murphy".)
And so it was upon a bright, harmless June morning that I learned of
the impending death of my freedom; the impending death of the carefree
lifestyle I had grown to love so dearly. Jen called me after work
and asked if I would join her at a local diner for a nice
breakfast. She greeted me in the parking lot with a cute little
yellow gift bag. I reached into the bag and pulled out a white
plastic stick with two pink lines on it, and some infant's
pajamas. Surprise!
My mind was a million miles away, and my initial reaction, one of utter
cluelessness, wasn't exactly the reaction that Jen was hoping
for. As a single tear began to trace its way down her cheek, I
quickly realized what it all meant. It took exactly one second
for me to run the gamut of emotions from sheer overwhelming terror to
ultimate nirvana before I could regain my composure and give Jen the
reaction she wanted to see. And in that single instant,
everything changed.
Hello Chloe.
The house is not so clean anymore, and I have lost hope for any
semblance of quiet. I sleep as little as I can, and do so
happily. I spend time alone with Chloe a few hours a day so that
Jen can finish school. My guitar is dusty and neglected. My
favorite books are covered in orange slime. Everyday is brand
new, and I'm seeing life through brand new eyes. My time is
filled with diapers and cereal and crawling around on the floor with a
toy in my mouth, barking like a dog while Chloe squeals with
delight. And like her daddy, Chloe loves to go for a drive.
We drive, and I think to myself, "Now I am truly free."
