I look down at little Parker, playing with his “choo-choo” as he likes to call his Thomas the Tank Engine. I smile as I rub my hands over my belly, these quiet playtimes are about to get disrupted for him. With our second baby due in a little over a month, life is about to get flipped upside down.

Again.

Parker gives me a toothy grin, his eyes are all Cole’s, but his lips are mine. “Mama, can I have dwink appo juice?”

How can I resist that sweet face? “Of course, hon, just a sec,” I waddle over to the fridge in our three-bedroom log house and pour some apple juice into a small plastic cup.

I can’t believe how normal this all feels now. It’s almost like my time in the Yukon and our escape to Alaska was all a dream. A fantasy I conjured up. Like the weeks we spent trekking through the woods until we crossed the border at night was a story I tell myself. Like the way we hitchhiked to Juno, me with a baby in my belly I wasn’t aware of yet, seems like a show I watched a long time ago, not my real life.

Now that Cole found steady work under the table as an apprentice carpenter and we settled into a city full of people who have their own reasons for running away to a place removed by an entire country from the lower forty-eight, it just feels normal. It feels like home.

I snap out of my daze, realizing that I’m staring at our son, happily playing on the living room floor. Cole will be home from work soon, so I guess I’ll get started on supper.

I start peeling some potatoes and look out the kitchen window to the beautiful mountains in the distance. I could never get sick of that view. I love watching the snow at this time of year as it begins to creep down the sides of the mountain range, warning us of the winter to come.

Cole walks in the door just as I throw the chicken in the oven. Just like he does every day, he crosses the floor, gives me a tender kiss and then a not-so-tender ass grab.

“Hey! Hands off,” I laugh, but he knows I love that he can’t keep his hands off me.

“No deal, that ass is mine, don’t you forget it,” he pulls me in and kisses me again.

“Daddy!” Parker comes running across the floor to meet Cole with open arms. It’s not hard to understand why they call them toddlers, anyone who’s seen a two-year-old walk and run around knows that it’s the perfect description for them.

“Hey little man, how was your day? Were you a good boy for your Mama?” Cole sweeps Parker into his arms and lifts him from the ground as our son squeals with delight.

“I vewy good, wight Mama?” He looks over at me solemnly, like he’s swearing on a bible in court.

“Always,” I agree, tousling his golden hair.

“Family hugs!” Parker demands, holding his arms out to request that I join him in his father’s arms. I used to fit a lot easier before my bump popped. Now, at eight months along, I can barely feel Cole’s fingertips strain to reach me around Parker. Still, it feels amazing to be all together like this. And I know that in another month, these family hugs will be even sweeter when our little girl enters the world.

“All right, you get off your feet Abbie, I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” Cole frees me from his grasp and places Parker back on his feet. “You and I have some ‘choo-choos’ to play with bud, let’s go!” Cole smiles down at him and Parker excitedly leads the way into the living room. Cole has always been better at playing with him than I am. He’s more exciting and engaging and Parker adores his one-on-one time with his Dad.

I make my way over to the comfy chair across the room and watch them, smiling as I rub my belly slowly. If this isn’t perfection, I don’t want to know what is. As Parker’s eyes twinkle up at Cole and they laugh together on the floor pushing around trains, I feel our daughter give me a couple of kicks.

“She’s kicking guys, come feel,” I interrupt their game, but Parker doesn’t mind. He loves feeling the baby give me swift little boots from the inside. I think it makes it more real for him. I guide his hand to where his sister is practicing aerobics and his face lights up with excitement. Cole stands over us and I can see the pride in his puffed-out chest and broad smile as he soaks in the moment.

Yeah, it doesn’t get more perfect than this. I know my own Mama is looking down on me, happy that I took a chance, that I lived my life and that I found my path. The path that led me to the love of my life, to my happiness and to the family I’ve always wanted.

Thank you, Mama.

“I love you, Abbie,” Cole’s voice is deep and soft, like he’s talking to me in a dream.

“I love you too,” I answer.

“And me!” Parker yells.

“Of course, no one could forget you!” I laugh.

I guess so much of my life feels like a distant dream is because it is one. A dream come true.

* * *