I could have missed this.

Sophie and I laid outside next to the fire as the sun dipped behind the mountains and the stars started to peek out. She regaled me with stories about her friends, and places she’s like to visit, and Pluto. It’s a cold moon, she told me, and nothing lives there.

I could have missed this.

She told me she isn’t always lucky. I told her I wasn’t always lucky either, but mostly I feel very lucky anyway. I explained to her that I was lucky when Elle was born. I was lucky when she was born and I stared into her perfect almond shaped eyes. I was lucky when baby Tommy was born. I told her I was most lucky when I met her daddy, and when I fell in love with him and he fell in love with me right back.

She told me she was lucky for right now.

I could have missed this.

When the stars started to glow brighter in the sky, we made wishes. She wished for a unicorn, then asked me what my wish was. I told her I wished for a unicorn, too, and that if I got one, I would give it to her. When she pressed me further, I told her my real wish was kind of silly. “Like a jack-in-the-box?” She asked. I laughed. Actually, I wished to be published by a major periodical, which is kind of the same as a jack-in-the-box, now that I think about it.

I could have missed this.

For all the moments my heart cracked open, swelling with love at the seams, pouring out into glistening teardrops in my eyes, a lump caught in my throat as I thought, “I could have missed this.” But instead of watching down on her from heaven, admiring her from afar, I got to hold her tonight. I got to push her hair back from her face and watch the fire dance in her eyes. I got to listen to her whisper that she loves me, and she got to hear me reaffirm my unending love for her.

And even though I could have missed this, I didn’t. And that makes all the difference.

Give ‘Em Hell