In town the next day I can't stop smiling. Denny's holding Stevie's hand and I'm holding hers the three of us shopping for lunch and dinner, Stevie has to have fresh fruit salads for her diet which means we have to peruse the supermarket. It's winter in Oregon, not a lot of variety as far as tropical fruit goes and while normally Karen would be the one braving the hordes at her boss's behest she's not here so Stevie has to. I usually do my own shopping since I'm harder to recognize in public than she is, but the people are friendly and non-intrusive, so we aren't bothered too much.
"I need pineapple and mango Linds" quirking an eyebrow I scan the bins of fruit around me, lots of berries and applies nuts, seeds...not a lot of island fruit "It's not exactly local angel, I know how to make a cranberry kale salad it's full of vitamins and stuff. Plus, all the ingredients are right here" her own eyebrows shoot into her hairline and she chuckles "Cranberry kale salad? Who the hell are you and what did you do with Lindsey Buckingham?" lifting a bale of the greens I juggle it back and forth in my hands "I'm serious, I have learned a few things in the last decade or so. One of those things is how to eat somewhat healthy" I didn't much have a choice I turned forty and my doctor demanded it.
"Fine, kale it is. Come on little man lets grab some cereal" skipping along after his grandmother Denny and Stevie disappear down the breakfast aisle. The ingredients to the salad aren't hard to round up and since I'm immensely proud of myself for knowing how to pick out fresh kale I take my time, steering the cart to the meat section next to pick out a roasting hen. Smiling as I load my cart I wonder if I'll be this excited to shop or all of our meals from now on. I'm going to be a family man again after all. Someone bumps me from behind a mumbled apology thrown my way as they walk past. I guess leaving LA doesn't mean leaving behind rudeness.
Catching up with Stevie and Denny I watch the two of them have a spirited conversation in ASL over which cereal he can have. Knowing Stevie she's objecting to the massive amounts of sugar in each bowl, knowing Denny that's exactly what he wants to eat. I step in just as Denny puts on his sad cow eyes, the ones Stevie can't resist. She's about to relent when I walk up to them pushing the buggy "Lindsey look at this cereal it's pure sugar and corn syrup"
Captain Crazies Choco-puffs part of your balanced breakfast, if breakfast where balanced around a dozen donuts. Denny tugs my arm as I scrutinize the "nutrients" on the back of the box. Stevie' crosses her arms...well here goes my first shot at being a husband AND a parent at the same time. "Den, why don't you go pick another box of cereal I'm with grandma on this one there's too much sugar" his little body slumps but I hand him back the box so he can make another selection. Slowly he places the box on the shelf then looks up and down the rows at the other choices.
Making up his mind at last he grabs another box then jogs over to us handing it to Stevie, her glasses slip to the end of her nose as she looks at his latest offering "Lucky Charms...well at least there's grains in it. I can live with that" spirits buoyed by the concession Denny plops the box into the cart jumping on the front end while I steer it toward check out. I feel a hand in my back pocket and Stevie gives me a slow smile as we go. I return it kissing her neck briefly when we stop at the cash register to unload.
Kale salad and roast chicken are for dinner, but when we get back to the cabin it's time for lunch. Stevie makes peanut butter sandwiches for us, while Denny and I put together a Lego set. This is why I wanted to get married, this is why I wanted kids. To feel like I'm a part of a family the way I never did as a child. I'm not terribly proud of my "old fashioned" sensibilities they're antiquated in a lot of ways, but I've made no secret as to my desire to have a normal nuclear family.
The sense of warmth and love I feel when we sit down together around our lunch is phenomenal, Stevie and I hold hands while Denny eats with one hand and plays with his race car with the other. He stops every so often to ask a quick question "Have you ever been to a car race grandpa" "How fast does your car go?" "How old do I have to be to drive?" the last one gives me heartburn, but I answer them all regardless "Yes I've been to F1 races in Europe, I don't know how fast my car goes but it's not a race car, twenty-five" Stevie whacks my shoulder softly at my last answer correcting me in a slightly scolding manner "You have to be sixteen and prove you can be responsible"
