Fleetwood Mac-Part III of Fritz Series

His-story or Her-story?

"Daddy!" the sound of Sara and Nova yelling my name is possibly one of the best sounds in the world. They're both getting older and bigger and one day they'll be running AWAY from me, but for now my kiddos are instantly excited to see me. Ginny, slower these days but no less enthused, trots happily behind them as Sara gets to me first launching herself into my arms. I usually exaggerate how heavy they are, but it appears the fates have decided that Sara is going to be as tall as me and Jeff. Nova is built like a tank so he takes my knees out when he tackles me. I hit the ground, hard, but it's been two days since I've seen either of them so I suck it up.

AJ is probably still in his room, or he's taking up my side of the mattress in the master bedroom. Likely the latter, the sun rises and sets in Stevie's eyes as far as he's concerned. And since this is the first time in months she's spent longer than a few hours at home, I'm sure he's making maximum use of his momma being around. I've always had the needling sensation that my absence during the first months of his life bonded him more to Stevie than to me. Whereas Sara went everywhere with me, and Nova's been tagging along with Sara since he could walk thus the strong bond I have with them.

Nova shakes my shoulder expectantly "What's up buddy?" grinning he hugs my neck "Did grandma send cookies?" ah yes...chocolate chip walnut cookies. Mom's mad an addict of my kids, and no matter what she makes a batch for them when we visit or when she visits. Feigning confusion I look around the living room "Hmmmm I'm not sure...I think I ate all of them." Both of them gasp then slump in disappointment "Okay, okay, here Sara-they're on the front seat of daddy's car" Sara grabs the key to my BMW and she and Nova race outside yelling "Don't run!" the door slams, I doubt they heard me.

The whole plate will be gone by this afternoon.

There's a stack of mail on the kitchen island which means Stevie's already been up already, the pot of bubbling water on the stove confirms this. She's making oatmeal, the big mason jar with layers of grains, dried fruit and nuts a dead giveaway. She learned that from Barbra, one of those timesaving tips only a professional mom can parse out. The door flies open and I hear the pitter patter of footsteps again. Taller, stronger, and older Sara holds the plate of cookies out of Nova's reach watching in amusment as he tries to take them. I can sense a broken plate and cookies on the ground so I put a stop to it "Alright guys, no cookies for breakfast you can have some at lunchtime"

Pouting Sara hands over the plate and I proceed to load the cookie jar by the toaster. Thumbing through the mail I wrinkle my nose at a letter from my old high school. I immediately start imaging the worst, i.e. I only THOUGHT I'd graduated but in reality I'm missing four gym credits and I have to make them up to get my real diploma. Tearing open the paper I groan at the neatly typed wording on the surface:

You are invited!

Menlo-Atherton alumni are invited to a reunion of old friends, this Summer! The senior class of 1968 is inviting you, plus one guest, to join in a night of food, fun, nostalgia and throwbacks to your days in high school. The theme of the gathering is career day; find a creative costume signaling your current employment. We hope to see you there July 20th at six o'clock pm, door prizes will be given out. Open bar, and catered dinner also available. Hope to see you there soon!

Yours sincerely,

Laura Michaels, former student body president class 1968.

As if I want to spend a night answering questions about what it's like to be famous, or worse people ghoulishly interrogating me about Javi and Sandra. Just as I'm about to rip the invitation in half I fell a hand on the small of my back, the smell of lavender and lilac just behind me "Hey you" breathy and hesitant Stevie's voice so close to me sends a shiver down my spine. My body betraying my mind's fragile truce with sanity.