The Last Good Day

The last good day he remembers started with the sight of his wife's hair on the pillow next to him and the realization that their three-year-old daughter was poking him in the shoulder.

"Up, up...time to get up, D-a-a-a-d." Etta sang.

Olivia turned towards him and smiled and he smiled back. It was a Saturday, which meant the park, and Etta was not about to let him forget that.

Peter rolled over and faced his daughter, "Okay, kiddo, I'm up. I'm up."

He scooped her into his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead. Etta giggled her sweet Etta giggle and settled happily on his chest.

He turned to Olivia. "Coffee, please, and how long before she leaves for college?"

Olivia sat up in bed and ruffled Peter's hair. "Um, last night you said you wanted to keep her home, always."

"Last night I didn't know she'd be poking me in the shoulder at." He looked at the clock on the nightstand, "Six twenty-three in the morning."

Olivia smiled and got out of bed. "I'll get the coffee and you get her dressed."

She headed to the kitchen.

Peter sat up. Etta had wiggled out of his arms and was now sitting next to him.

"Park." She said.

Peter saluted her very seriously.

"Yes, ma'am."

Etta giggled again, threw her arms around his neck, and gave him a baby hug full of love, love, and nothing but love. Peter kissed his daughter's pudgy, chubby cheeks, and looked into her beguilingly blue, Bishop eyes, and he knew he would never, ever be able to let go of her.

The last good day ended with him lying in the sunshine, his wife beside him, his daughter close by and him believing it when he said, "You know, I think that I would be happy to stay here for the rest of my life."

The next good day he remembers was today. This afternoon. His wife, yes, she was still his wife, was holding Etta. Not three years old, more like twenty-three, but she still called her "Mama." They'd found her or, rather, she'd found them. He had never let go of her but it had destroyed him; it had destroyed them, and ultimately, it hadn't kept Etta safe. But now, it was different. They were okay. They were together again, a family, of sorts.

Peter watched his wife hold their daughter close. Watched her breathe in Etta's scent and try not to think about the lost years and to only live in the now of her being with them again. It was hard, he knew. It was confusing. But, most of all, sadly, it was joyful because today was a good day, and hopefully, it would not be their last.