five p.m. walking home from a hard days work. the concrete sidewalks, counting the blocks. each step quicker than the last, hurry home. and as i walk, the greyish skies above open up. i pull the collar from my warm pea coat up around my cooling neck, and i slide the umbrella open for my shelter in motion. the lamplight forms a glow as the english mist looms. the sounds of the wet pavement streets grow louder as the cars speed by, also on their way home. i continue until i meet the wooden gate, the point where the past of the day is behind me and greats the rest of the world that is me, i am. as i open the creaking gate, i jump over a growing rain puddle, and i land on the mossy covered cobblestone path that leads me to my castle. i climb the few steps to the porch, closing my portable shelter, brushing the wetness off my jacket, meeting the door ahead. i reach in my pocket and grab the cold keys and picked out the silver metal cut skeleton key and slid it into its home and turned the knob. the very first thing i see is my son playing blocks in the front parlour. as a big smile comes across his smooth baby face, he gets up and walks shakily over to where i am standing and hugs my leg. my daughter sitting at her mothers desk, working diligently on her homework. and without disruption or looking up softly says “hey”. i pick my son up to hug. i take in a breath and smell the aroma of dinner basking in the surrounding. drying her hands on her white apron that she quickly unties and slips off, my wife. coming up to me, she gives me a loving smile, kiss me welcome, hug me love. i set my canvas satchel down, along with my son, and place the umbrella in the corner, where the last of the raindrops fall upon the green slated floor below. i hang up my dampened coat on the coat rack in the other corner of the entryway. i start untying my tie as i head up stars for my shower. i wash the off the days work, and scrub off the workdays burden. my wife knocks at the door and opens it. and with her soft voice reminds me that i forgot my towel. i see through the steamed glass as she tries to place the cotton towel on the hook beside the shower door. i quickly open the glass door and gently grab her elbow, wet laughter met by a warm embrace of the love that often goes without or forgotten. busy schedules, conflicting times. quickly and quietly, the passion brews. we both laugh as we dry off and change into our evening attire of comfortable clothing of soft flannel pants and a dryer sheet scented t-shirt. we head down to the dinner table, i gather the kids as she makes the final preparations to the dinner meal. we all sit, all in our proper seating place, and i smile. i smile just watching my wife placing the bib on our youngest. she catches a glimpse of me watching her, and replies with a crooked smile. we all bow are heads and grace is spoken. and as my daughter speaks of thanksgiving, i sneak a peek of my family. and in that quick moment, i saw in slow motion, a panoramic view of my family. and at that moment, i felt it. simultaneously in my heart, body and mind, that this is it. this is what i live for, this is what every single aspect of my life lives for. this family, this house, our lives we share together. working to live, never living to work. this is me. i am. after dinner, homework done and the children are all worn out, we put them to bed. we follow suit. there, we listen to the silence, peaceful and relaxing. child-free for the moment, soak it in. i hold you until you fall asleep, i quietly turn over and turn out the light. the day is complete.  c.2012 BGW

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