O: Optimistic

—hopeful and confident about the future.

...

"Asher Rush Goodman, will you please keep still?"

The Goodmen—the moniker courtesy of Jonah—household had erupted with discord, silly banter ringing throughout the house. From the rose-pink light of dawn 'til the timid glimmer of dusk, they were engrossed in the numerous errands and chores that parenthood obliged. Time danced by effortlessly and they were met with fatigue. Two years ago, they didn't have the slightest notion that being fathers would be this difficult.

It was currently eight o' clock in the evening and Jonah was arduously trailing after a hyper two-year-old boy who was concurrently singing (mumbling) the "Elements of the Periodic Table" song, prancing around the room in his underwear, bubbling with childish buoyancy. The little boy was filled with excitement while Jonah was dead beat and too exhausted to play this little game anymore. He plopped down on the bed, sinking into the sheets that smelled of cinnamon.

"How's it going, babe?"

He deciphered the silhouette that swimmed on the wooden floor, his gaze flickering up at his husband. His eyes were the color of deep sienna, with a mischievous glint that seemed to reflect the corners of his mouth, which were fighting a smile. They were every shade of brown Jonah could imagine, a raw umber and caramel mix, dotted with bits of dark chocolate. They glow with humor and playfulness that gives him shivers and wraps him in a warm embrace at the same time.

"Oh, just fine," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Narrowing his eyes, a sliver of vexation peeked from his demeanor. Cyrus could only guffaw at how terrible they were at parenting. He looked over to their child who was currently staring absentimindedly at the few books that lay on the floor.

"Can you read me a story?"

Cyrus looked over to the book that the little boy held in his hands, the cover printed in large font, "The Giving Tree." Asher skipped over to his parents, handing over the book with a smile etched across his face. There had only been a few words said, and not even halfway through the story, Asher looked blasé about it. Seeking a way out of his mundane state, he feigned a yawn. "This is boringggg," he dramatically prolonged his words, emphasizing his boredom, "Tell me another story."

Jonah groaned, accumulating the rest of the books, "Okay, then which one do you want us to read?"

"I don't want any of those books! They're all so boring." Asher folded his arms, falling backwards onto the pillow in frustration. Jonah drew a brow at his son, turning to his husband for an idea. Cyrus merely shrugged, his nonchalance further annoying Jonah.

"Then what do you want us to do?"

"Tell me your story."

"Um," Jonah paused, dithering on whether to touch upon his and Cyrus' love story. After an interlude of thought, he flourished into narration, "well, it all began in a magical, wonderful living hell called Jefferson Middle School." He noticed the spark that danced in Asher's viridescent eyes, a swirl of mint swimming throughout his irises. Cyrus playfully punched his arm for the jarring description despite agreeing with the statement.

"Auntie Mac-N-Cheese joined my unforgivably cringeworthy Ultimate Frisbee team, the Space Otters. She was pretty cool. But, what was even cooler about your auntie was that she was best friends with this sexy, hot dork named Cyrus Goodman." Asher bursted into a fit of giggles at the mention of his dad's name, while the aforementioned man became a blushing mess. "I was quickly infatuated with this boy—he was the kindest, most charming boy I knew and I felt so lucky to be his friend. A few years later, I found myself on his porch, completely drenched from the rain, knocking on his door, and pulling him into a kiss that I couldn't help but drown in."

"From that moment, we had dated for almost a decade, but let me tell you, it was a difficult trial. It definitely wasn't easy. We were quite a mess, and we endured every obstacle the universe could possibly throw us. But, it was all worth it, honestly, because just a few years after, I proposed to your dad. Then, all those moments led up to the most important day of my life: when you were born." Cyrus hugged him, clinging onto his arm.

"This is my favorite story. Please tell me it all the time."

Nodding, they both kissed Asher's forehead, a gesture of farewell, and got up. They tucked him in, offering mumbles of "good night" and "sweet dreams."

"I love you," Asher sleepily mumbled.

"We love you, too, Ash."

They were blessed with a bunch of miracles, and they couldn't be more grateful. Their life was a mess, but it was honestly the best thing they could ever ask for.