Idyllic

Okay, after having consulted dictionary.com, "idyllic" is really not the most appropriate word I could use to describe our evening, but I'm going to use it anyway.  Because I like it.

Tonight, I arrived home from work late, and walked into a quiet house.  That's unusual, unless Jude and J.P. are gone for a walk or to run an errand.  Her Honda Pilot was parked in front of the house, though, and both strollers were in the hall.  I hung my suit jacket on the back of a chair, walked into the kitchen, and looked out the window above the sink, into our backyard.  I saw Jude sitting on the deck in one of the wrought iron chairs, J.P. reclined contentedly in her lap, eating dinner off a small tray.  I paused for a moment, quietly, and just watched them. 

I walked outside, sat down and J.P. ran over to say hello.  We sat on the deck for a while, talking, while he ate.  Then, we went for a walk in the neighborhood.  Jude and I talked about our days at work, taking turns pushing J.P. in his stroller.  As darkness fell and we approached our house on what was a glorious, beautiful spring evening in Nashville, I looked at Jude and told her this was exactly what I had envisioned, long ago.  Walking with my wife, hand in hand, pushing our son in a stroller.  Now, I didn't necessarily think I'd be 43 years old when I lived that dream, but I'll take it without complaint.  I am truly a lucky man.