All It Will Ever Be

There’s a little house on a hill, out on the prairie. Tall, yellowing grass extends as far as the eye could see; a vast grassland stretching to the far corners of the Earth. The house is decently sized, two stories and fairly wide. A porched adorned with vines sagged at the front, little pink flowers blooming, twisting up the supports.

But standing on that porch, was a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties. And in his arms, he held a baby. He stared straight at me, a smile donned on his face. He was handsome, that was for sure. There was a kind of glow about him, one that was ethereal. Like a little drop of Heaven on Earth. He glanced down at the babe, cooing softly. He swayed side to side, rocking the child to a peaceful sleep. Except for the soft rustle of the grass in the wind, no sound could be heard.

I watched as he pressed a soft kiss to the infant’s forehead. He said nothing when he turned towards me again, adjusting his child in his arms. Approaching him, I peered inside the house. taking in all the potted plants and stunning art.

It was perfect. At least, as close to perfect as it could get.

I was now close enough to him that I could touch him. Reaching out, I placed my hand on his cheek, cradling his head. He was beautiful, so utterly beautiful that it stole my breath away. I let my fingers fall away from his face, focusing on the child in his arms. The babe was so tiny, wrapped securely in a pale yellow blanket. I gently took the baby from him, lightly brushing it's nose with my pinky as I marveled at it. Somehow, I knew. Somehow I knew that it was mine. And I was in love.

Choking back tears, I swayed back and forth with my child, looking at the man on the porch. And I knew he was mine too. My one-and-only. My other half. My forever. He smiled sweetly, pressing a light kiss to my lips as we stood side by side on the steps. "I love you," I said, voice little more than a murmur.

"And I you," he told me right back, pressing his forehead to mine.

Everything was right in the world. No stress weighed me down, no anxiety held me back. My life revolved not only around me anymore, but rather the people I called family.

But alas, it's just a dream. One that I put down on paper and cry over. One that I wished was real, but isn't. It's just a piece of art. A piece of literature. And that's all it will ever be.