by Faye Byrd
Josie sighs a content, happy sigh. “Deputy,” she whispers the nickname she’s called me for the past four years. I rest my head back on the couch and tilt my eyes to hers. “Does life get any better than this?” Her question is rhetorical, but it still makes my chest tighten with the love I have for this little family we done created.
Will gives a tiny cry, and Josie takes him, immediately offering her breast. As I watch him latch on, my whole world stills. “No, Cowgirl, it don’t get no better than this.”
It ain’t long ‘fore Bethy’s clamoring for attention and wanting to put on all her new stuff at once. With a chuckle, I crawl to the floor and do my best to help my baby girl try on her presents. Eventually, we take a break to eat some flapjacks, and as soon as that’s done, Bethy’s already bugging us to head to Birdie and Art’s place.
Everybody we know and love is gathered here today to celebrate our first holiday together. Aunt May brings her famous ham while Baby Face and Piano Girl supply the whiskey. Post Office Lady and Sheriff Stache bring a couple pies; Josie makes biscuits and cornbread, and Birdie handles all the fixings.
With kids running everywhere and surrounded by family, we eat, laugh and love.
I take a silent moment to remember my parents and the choices I made that followed their deaths. I wasn’t apologetic then, and I’m even less apologetic now. Their deaths changed the whole trajectory of my life; it ripped out my heart and turned me into a killer.
But now, even all these years later, I can’t regret my actions. I won’t. Their murderer paid with his life, and the whole journey brought me here, to this moment.
A moment filled with everything I ever wanted.
