The large wooden door creaked as John pushed his way into the hall. Briefcase in hand, along with several stacks of bills and letters, he staggered through the door, pushing it closed behind him.

"Helen!" He called.

Silence met him, hanging thick in the air. John's brow furrowed, his face puzzled as he set his armload down on the nearest table, craning his neck to look down the hall towards the kitchen. Helen was nowhere to be found.

"Helen!" He called again, this time raising his voice.

In answer, John heard Helen's footsteps rattling quickly down the stairs. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, uncurled and free from its usual waves around her face. Her eyes were tired and red-rimmed, but John also caught a glimpse of something else within them. Helen was angry; John turned to run, but it was too late, she'd seen him.

"John!" She hissed, her eyes seeming to bore through his skull. "I've just got Peter and Susan to bed, they've been sick all day; are you trying to irritate me?"

John winced at the sharp tone of her voice. "Of course not Helen, I'm sorry if I woke them."

Helen rolled her eyes slightly, but the gesture did not go unnoticed. John tensed unconsciously, sighing under his breath as Helen shifted the wide eyed Edmund in her arms before walking briskly away, leaving him standing alone in the foyer yet again.

John ran a hand through his hair, sighing once more as he shrugged out of his light overcoat. From the kitchen came the banging of pots and pans as Helen began preparing a light meal.

Part of him, the doting husband part of him, knew he should go in a and offer to lend a hand, but the other part of him, the part that was tired from a long day's work wanted nothing more than to finish grading English papers and relax. For several long, and trying moments, John debated within himself. The decision was not an easy one, but John knew there would be no living with Helen if he chose to ignore her in her time of need.

Taking a deep breath, John trudged into the kitchen.

Helen was already elbow deep in work, dirty dishes on the counter, broom in a corner, and stewpot simmering on the stove. Edmund, unaware of her activity, cooed happily away at her side, weaving his fingers into her unpinned tresses.

John smiled slightly, his mood changing as he came up behind Helen, his hand on her shoulder, stopping her for just a moment.

"What can I do to help love?"

John smile grew, more sincere than moments before as the stress seemed to disappear from his wife's face. And although her lips remained straight, a smile danced in her eyes. She nodded slightly, the smile now reaching her lips as John took Edmund from her arms.

"Why don't you sit down darling, I can cook dinner, just rest a bit."

Helen chuckled softly, nodding her head towards the pot on the stove. "It's just about done John, but even so, I hate to remind you that you can't cook."

It was John's turn to laugh, his relief at Helen's mood change making lightheartedness easy to come by.

"If worst came to worst, I think I could manage a couple of sandwiches."

Helen laughed again, this time a more earnest, carefree laughter. She shook her head, slapping John playfully before sitting slowly at the small kitchen table. Bouncing Edmund on his hip, John slowly stirred the steaming stew as Helen and he talked quietly.

Time ticked away, the two of them sharing their day, sharing a meal, and sharing their family as the evening grew deeper. Before long, after checking in on Peter and Susan, and putting Edmund to sleep in his bassinet at their bedside, John and Helen lay quietly, fingers entwined as they listened to their son's soft breathing.

"Thank you John." Said Helen, her soft voice breaking the stillness around them.

John turned to his side, facing her as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest.

"You're welcome love."

Helen smiled up at him, it was a small smile, but it made all his efforts worth it.

"We're lucky you know," she said, stroking his fingers tenderly. "Even on the worst of days, we're lucky. Some people spend their whole lives searching for something we already have, some never find it."

John said nothing, only pulling Helen closer to him. He knew he was lucky – blessed – as some called it. In his wildest dreams he would have never pictured himself here, a father and husband. He'd dreamed of traveling, learning all he could before settling down.

But as time went by, his plans were scattered to the wind, dashed by the death of his mother, placed aside as he fell helplessly in love, and shelved as he married the love of his life. The woman he was building a different life with.

Different, but not bad. Different, but good – he was lucky. The dreams of his youth may have passed away, but with Helen, with the children, John worked on building new dreams – better dreams. To some, their life would appear ordinary and meaningless, but when looking again, their life was far from meaningless. Together, he and Helen were raising a new generation – they were raising the hope of the future.

And that was full of meaning, full of purpose.