London
Ten Years Later
“The love that lives within our hearts is eternal, and there’s nothing flawed about that.”
—London Berkeley
I zip up the back of Lindi’s body suit.
“I hate this,” she grumbles. “Why can’t I wear a bikini?”
“You can”—I pause, turning Lindi around to look at me—“when you’re in the house.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant, Mom.”
I apply the heavy cream to her face with the highest level of SPF available. It might be a tad overkill with the giant brimmed hat she’ll be wearing, but I don’t take any chances. I think Lindi’s swimsuit is adorable. It’s a full bodysuit with long sleeves and leggings. The only skin that shows is her face, hands, and feet—all of which I cover diligently with the best sunscreen available. The bodysuit is fashionable, I think. It’s pink with a cute little skirt that goes around the waist.
“Annie doesn’t have to wear this stupid thing,” she says.
“She wears a bodysuit, too. And a sun hat.”
“Yeah, but at least you can see her knees and elbows in hers. This is stupid. I look like an idiot.” With a pout, she crosses her arms over her chest.
“You do not look like an idiot,” I reassure her. “You look adorable.”
“Sebastian is going to think I look stupid.”
I pull in a sigh. I’m not ready for her to be boy crazy.
She’s only twelve.
We’ve been spending our summers at Loïc’s grandparents’ cottage in Lulworth, England, ever since Lindi was two. She’s grown up with Sebastian, who lives a few cottages down from us. He’s a year older than she is, and the two of them have been best friends since they were toddlers.
“Lin,” I say, my tone serious, “Sebastian has seen you in a swimming suit similar to this one your whole life. He’s not going to think anything of it. He’s your friend because of who you are, not what you wear. I never want you to worry about people judging you because, if they do, then they’re not worth your time. You are perfect just the way you are. Right?”
“Yeah.” She nods.
“Tell me what you are, Lindi Berkeley,” I cheer.
She sighs, and a small smile comes to her face. “I am smart. I am beautiful. I am strong.”
“There’s my girl.” I grin wide. “And, to me, you are perfect.” I kiss the top of her head before putting on her sun hat and tying it in place.
“Mimi upendo daima,” I tell her.
“I love you always, too, Mama.” She smiles.
“Now, go out there and have some fun.”
“Okay.” Lindi starts to run out of the cottage.
“Oh, hey, Lin,” I call out before she’s out the door.
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Please let the twins play with you and Sebastian some.”
“Mom,” Lindi whines.
“Please. It’s not fair to exclude them.”
“Fine, but if Arbor throws sand at me again, that’s it,” she mutters before heading out to the beach.
I finish throwing some drinks and snacks into the cooler, and then I head down the stone path that extends from our cottage to the beach. Summers here are the best. The views of the cove are breathtaking, our family’s own little piece of heaven right here on earth.
The cottage itself is definitely one of my favorite places. We’ve kept it pretty much the way we found it, save for some minor updates here and there over the years. All of the pictures of Loïc and his family are still displayed throughout the rooms, but they are now joined by photos of our family. Our perfect family of five.
I never got to meet Loïc’s parents or his gran, but I feel close to them at our cottage, as if their spirits are here somehow. Their stories are on the walls, displayed in stunning photos. They lived in these rooms and laughed around the dinner table, just as we do. Being here brings joy to our family and allows us to feel connected to Loïc’s heritage. I hope his family is out there somewhere and can see that Loïc’s life is wonderful and that he is truly happy.
Somewhere along this journey, I’ve realized that a flawed heart is a fallacy. Regardless of the situations surrounding us, our hearts keep beating—through pain and pleasure, heartache and joy. It beats, keeping us living and allowing us to love. In reality, the heart is quite perfect. It’s powerful, and somehow, I know that, even when it ceases to beat, the love that it carries within will continue to exist. I feel it when I’m here the most. There’s so much love for Loïc and my children from people I’ve never met. It’s that same love that empowered Loïc to make it through almost impossible situations throughout his life. The love that lives within our hearts is eternal, and there’s nothing flawed about that.
I hear Annie shriek, and I look toward the sound to see her falling into the water with a huge splash. Loïc must have just thrown her in, which she loves. Arbor is beside Loïc, raising his arms to be next. Another favorite about this place is the sounds—splashing waves, laughter, and giggles. There’s really nothing better.
I set the cooler under our cabana and take a seat in the lounge chair. This is where I can be found on our beach days—in the shade, relaxing. Sometimes, I read, and often, I simply watch my greatest blessings having fun, which is the best view of all.
Loïc is in his element. If there’s sand, sweat, sun, water, or physical activity involved, he’s all in. After all of these years, his affection toward all things nature hasn’t diminished, and now, he’s passing that love onto our children.
“Higher, Dad!” Arbor yells as Loïc tosses him into a wave.
Annie is at Loïc’s side, ready for another turn, and I love seeing them together. It still fascinates me to see how much Annie looks like Loïc.
Our eight-year-old twins are our little replicas. Annie is the female image of Loïc, and Arbor is the little male version of me—in looks alone. They both have their father’s outdoorsy, adventurous spirit.
My heart swells with adoration every time I look at my babies—all three of them. Lindi will always be such a miracle and blessing to me. She changed my world in ways that I could never even articulate. She made me a mother.
She showed me what unconditional love is—the best love, the kind a parent has for a child. There’s nothing like it. Parental love is like living my life with my heart beating on the outside of my chest—exposed, vulnerable, fearful of all the things that could go wrong. Yet, at the same time, it’s as if it beats on the outside of my chest because there couldn’t possibly be enough space to hold it within. There’s such an immensity of love coursing through my heart with every beat that it’s impossible to contain.
The twins are miracles as well. They were the result of our fourth and final attempt at in vitro, our last endeavor to try to have biological children. And it couldn’t have turned out more perfect. It’s as if the doctors took all the best parts of me and Loïc, mixed them together, and put them in my belly, giving us two flawless little humans.
The two years following Lindi’s second birthday were spent, in part, trying to have another child. But it wasn’t anything like the pre-Lindi time, and I had known it wouldn’t be. Lindi is such a bright light in my life, so there wasn’t a chance that the darkness could get through. The difference between those two years and the attempts prior to Lindi were that, though we were trying to conceive, we still lived. We laughed. We smiled. We cheered on every little milestone Lindi had achieved. We woke up each day, so happy for the wonderful little family we had. The three years we had with just Lindi contained some of the best moments in our life.
Then, the twins came, and whole new sections of my heart opened up, allowing me to experience more love than I knew possible. And, just as Lindi is, Arbor and Annie are perfect. I’d uttered the word perfection many times in my life, but it wasn’t until I met my children that I truly understood what that word meant.
It’s hard to believe that it all started with a spoiled girl, a moody boy, and a car wash, and somehow, we’ve arrived to this place where we get to live such an amazing life.
“Come on, Mom!” Annie calls from the sea.
Loïc holds Arbor on his shoulders, and I know Annie needs me as a partner for another round of chicken fighting.
I head toward the sea, a huge smile on my face. “Come on, you two,” I say to Sebastian and Lindi as I pass them. “You can fight the winner.”
“Yes!” Lindi says, following me.
There’s nothing my family loves more than some epic competition.
“You ready to go down, Mom?” Arbor teases when I reach them.
“No, you’re going down. Girls rule, and boys drool!” Annie shouts back.
I slip under the water, allowing Annie to climb onto my shoulders, and then I stand, wiping the salt water from my face.
“Who’s your money on, Lin?” Loïc asks Lindi.
“Ann and Mom, for sure,” Lindi replies with a smirk.
“Girl power,” Annie cheers as she fist-bumps Lindi.
“No way. Dad is way stronger than Mom. Mom’s weak,” Arbor says.
“Hey!” I protest.
“Sorry, Mom…but it’s true,” Arbor says.
“It kind of is, babe.” Loïc laughs.
I shake my head with a mock glare of annoyance. “We’re going to show them. Aren’t we, girls?”
Sebastian counts down, and the fight starts. I stand in front of Loïc, holding Annie’s legs against my chest, as she and Arbor wrestle atop us.
“I love you,” I say to Loïc.
“Love you, too,” he says back.
“Stop flirting with the enemy, Mom!” Lindi says from beside me. “Girl power, remember?”
“Oh, right. Sorry,” I say to her.
Loïc just laughs as the twins continue to wrestle above us.
Arbor yelps and falls back, pulling Loïc along with him into the water. The boys surface from beneath the water to celebratory cheers from us girls.
“Not fair!” Arbor protests. “Dad, she poked me in my pressure point in the armpit. That’s cheating.”
“No, it’s not,” Annie says. “We never said no pressure points.”
“Because it’s always a rule. You know that,” Arbor grumbles.
“It’s only a rule if we say it is,” Annie replies with a bit of attitude in her voice.
I can’t help but laugh.
“It’s always a rule! Dad, tell her it’s a rule.”
The competition between these two is fierce.
“Well, let Lin and Sebastian have their turn facing Mom and Ann, and then we’ll do a rematch,” Loïc offers, which brings a smile to my face.
No one ever wins in our family because the losers are always requesting a rematch, but playing games with a revolving rematch seems to keep the arguing to a minimum. So, it works.
The six of us play chicken fights until my shoulders ache, and the kids complain of hunger.
“There’s food up in the cooler.” I haven’t even finished the sentence before the kids are racing through the water and toward the beach.
“My shoulders hurt,” I whine, throwing my arms up around Loïc’s neck.
He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close. “I’ll give you an extra-long massage tonight.”
“Okay,” I agree with an airy sigh.
His wet lips part before finding mine, and I kiss him hard. The saltiness from the water only adds to the appeal of it. He leisurely trails his warm tongue along my bottom lip, and I groan.
“Is it bedtime yet?” I ask, so ready to be alone with my husband.
Loïc chuckles. “We have a ways to go.” He peppers kisses across my cheek and over to my ear where he bites gently and pulls on my lobe. The warmth of his breath against my ear causes goose bumps to erupt on my wet skin, and I shiver.
I moan, a combination of protest and pleasure. I feel Loïc’s hard want for me against my belly, which only turns me on more.
“Do you remember the first time we did it in Lake Michigan?” Loïc asks.
“Of course. How can I forget?” I close my eyes, thinking back on the fond memory. “It was also the first time we went boogie-boarding.”
“It was,” Loïc agrees.
“I miss the good ole days when we would walk out into chest deep water, and you’d just whip it out and stick it in me.”
Loïc laughs. “Yeah, those were the days,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Now, you just stick it in me in boring places, like beds and showers.”
“I’ve really been slacking in my old age,” he jokes.
“Totally.” I smirk.
“I’ll make it up to you tonight,” he says, his voice lowering to a husky whisper.
“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?” I ask eagerly.
“You’re going to have to wait. It’ll be a surprise. But you’ll enjoy yourself. I promise.” He kisses me.
“I always do,” I say when he pulls away.
“Shall we go make sure our kids aren’t choking or fighting?” he asks.
“Probably a good idea.” I take his hand in mine. “Are you ready?” My stare goes down toward the water.
Loïc repositions himself with his free hand and then replies with a nod, “Ready.”
I walk to the shore with the love of my life, toward our greatest blessings, in one of the most special places on earth. Their voices carry out to us, and even though they’re bickering—this time about whether I used peach or apricot jelly on the sandwiches—the sound makes me smile.
They’re my entire world.
I’ve spent my life traveling, never settling down in one place for too long. Important milestones are marked by geography instead of time. Sweet memories are categorized by where I was when I experienced it. These places hold meaning; they shaped my life.
My world started in Berkeley, California, when a perfect baby boy was left on a fire station step. He was adopted by an amazing family who carried the fateful name that I’m so blessed to hold now, too. We named our eldest daughter after the city where I’d discovered the greatest love of all—the love a parent has for their child. We named our twins after the city where we’d first fallen in love—Ann Arbor. We fly into London every summer, where so much of Loïc’s family history exists, to spend precious months of time in our own utopia.
I’ve been all over the world and seen some incredible places. Yet our family holds the names of the most spectacular, the ones that changed me forever. These places remind me of the true miracles in my life—my reasons, the ones that make every step in this journey of life so very worth it.