The hallway clock bangs off twelve chimes as I exit the kitchen to return to the living room, my bare feet sticking slightly to the hardwood floor with each step. I round the corner into the den, expecting to see my two girls sniffling in front of Titanic’s final scene. Instead, I’m greeted by the sight of them curled up on the couch, fast asleep.

As silently as I can, I cross the room to the La-Z-Boy, where I sit down to simply stare at them. They look like a perfect picture, taken directly from the front of a Hallmark card. Mac is in her usual spot at the end of the couch, her long legs reclined on the pull-out foot support. Mattie is snuggled up against her, her red curls falling across her shoulders in stark but graceful contrast to Mac’s chocolate brown locks. I notice with an amused smile that they’ve painted their toenails an identical shade, a deep purple with a faint touch of glitter - no doubt the result of some sort of female bonding ritual earlier in the evening.

I lean my head against the back of the chair, allowing myself to soak in the peace of the moment. For the first time in over a week, things feel back to normal. Mac just returned from the carrier U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln this morning, where she’s been observing changes in the rules of engagement for the past nine days. Life just wasn’t right without her presence at the dining table, without her laughter in the kitchen, without her and Mattie’s giggles in the laundry room, and without her next to me in bed. It’s surprising and humbling how just a few days’ separation can enhance your appreciation and love for someone, how it makes you realize what a vital aspect that person is to your everyday life.

I’m temporarily brought out of my thoughts by the sound of Mattie’s mumbling, and I look up just in time to see her squirm in her sleep and squeeze in closer to Mac. I smile with satisfaction, still amazed at how close the two of them have become in the past year. Before Mac and I became engaged, she and Mattie had only shared a limited amount of time with each other. I was unsure how long it would take them to adjust to living together - uncertainties which were immediately eliminated as we soon as we started developing into a family. Mac’s guiding nature and Mattie’s advanced maturity made for an instant connection, and now it’s hard for me to think of one without the other coming to mind. Not only do they share a maternal/child bond, but Mac’s past history with Chloe has helped her become a type of sister figure to Mattie as well. It may not be a typical relationship, but it works beautifully.

Contemplations about Mattie usually bring thoughts of other children to mind. Mac and I have been trying for about the last six months for a baby of our own; after four months passed without luck, we decided to turn to a specialist. Mac underwent her first round of in-vitro two days before she left for the Lincoln, and her next check-up is already scheduled on the calendar. We’ve been trying not to get too anxious or excited, but the doctor’s cautious optimism is contagious. With the help of science and answered prayers, we’ll hopefully have some good news waiting for us. I quickly send up another short prayer, something that’s become familiar and habitual lately.

Glancing at my watch, I realize that it’s nearly 12:30. Better get these two off to bed, or they’ll be cranky with cramped necks and sore backs in the morning. Trust me, I try to avoid having the two of them grumpy at the same time at any and all costs. I rise and walk over to gently shake Mac’s shoulder.

She stirs, opening one eye. A sleepy smile spreads over her face. “We missed the end of the movie?”

I nod as I begin to gently dislodge Mattie from her side. “Guess you’ll have to weep over Jack another day.” With only slight difficulty, I sweep my still-sleeping ward into my arms. She’s still having a bit of a hard time walking on her own, especially when her joints get stiff after sitting still for too long; plus, she’s proven to be impossible to wake up after falling asleep. And, truth be told, I enjoy tucking her in. She may be eighteen years old, but she’s still - and always will be - my little girl.

It’s not long before Mattie is buried underneath her blanket and Mac and I are wrapped up in our own bed. Mac’s fallen asleep almost before hitting her pillow, and I’m content to lie with her spooned against me. Listening to the gentle pounding of the ocean surf outside, feeling the fresh breeze floating through the window, and inhaling the vanilla scent of Mac’s hair, I know that there is nowhere else I’d rather be, no life I’d rather be living. I could not ask for more.

- Fin. -