#Eye doctors Grande Prairie

[iseeopticalca]

Your Complete Guide to the Best Photochromatic or Adaptive Lenses

It might be a hassle to wear prescription glasses and sunglasses in the summer because you have to carry two pairs with you at all times and switch between them when you go from indoors to outdoors. However, one pair can be worn thanks to light-adaptive photochromic lenses continuously. These smartly designed two-in-one glasses adjust to the brightness, protecting your eyes while sparing you the hassle of constantly changing lenses.

Without having to think about it, adaptive eyeglasses in Grande Prairie give you the greatest eyesight possible in every lighting through various tints.

1-What advantages can photochromatic lenses offer?

These glasses help block up to 100% of UVA/UVB light and aid in lowering eye strain, eye damage, and possible increased risk of cataracts in later life.

Convenience: Instead of carrying shades and eyeglasses in Grande Prairie, you can switch between the two.

It could help you save money: Photochromic glasses are essentially two-in-one, so you won't need to buy separate glasses and sunglasses.

2-How do they function?

Regular sunglasses use polarisation or coloured filters to block out specific light wavelengths. Since photochromic lenses are made of carbon, UV causes the molecules to change form and absorb light, making the lenses appear darker. The lenses will get darker as there is more UV radiation present. Depending on the UV levels, they change proportionally from clear to various deeper colours.

3-Who requires them?

Like regular glasses, photochromic lenses can be worn daily throughout the day. They are useful for everyone, especially those who frequently move from interiors to outdoors.

fourteen

Children who are not likely to be able to balance two pairs of glasses—regular and sunglasses—can benefit greatly from photochromic eyeglasses in Grande Prairie, AB. By shielding them from the sun's harmful UV rays, it also promotes eye health from a young age.

The bottom line

Sunglasses may only sometimes offer the clearest vision since photochromic lenses adjust to light automatically, whereas sunglasses maintain the same tint level. If you want adaptive eyeglasses in Grande Prairie, AB, you should visit I See Optical.

[nancypullen]

Getting a Grip

So I told you I’d been doing a lot of thinking (did anyone smell feathers burning?) , but what I actually did was give myself a good talking to.  I needed it.  I started this blog in 2008 and to used to be such a fun, positive, entertaining space.  I was really proud that my itty bitty corner of the internet was sunshine and cookies.  I always hoped that by sharing my silliness I was skipping through the world with a basket of smiles and handing them out to whoever needed them.  Then.....menopause and Trump came into my life.  I feel like I’ve been ticked off since 2016.  I spent years firing off letters to elected officials, composing nasty tweets to answer the crazy MAGA crowd, and watching people I know happily and willingly fall victim to liars and grifters.   While our country was burning my hormones were playing dodge ball - BAM! You’re hot! BAM! You’re freezing. Bam! Everything irritates you! BAM! You love everyone!  I’ve never been one who suffered from mood swings, never suffered much of anything really.  And if I did, I could see the humor in it and give it a positive spin.  I was and am generally a happy person.  I was dealing with all of it....then the pandemic hit.  Good grief. What we thought might last a month or two lingered and lingered.  Vacations were canceled, we were all isolated, and far, far worse - we lost friends and family to an awful virus.  The same people who fell in with the grifter-in-chief decided that the medical community was one big conspiracy factory and refused to stay home, refused to mask, refused to get vaccinated, and numbers kept soaring.  Thank goodness we now have proven treatments, more people are vaccinated (no, it doesn’t prevent COVID, but like your flu shot can prevent a severe case and hopefully keep you out of the hospital), and there might be a light at the end of the tunnel...someday.  So, country on fire, hormones all over the place, pandemic - hey, we should sell our house.   OHMYGAWD. I’d been the one making noise about moving for years. YEARS. Then suddenly the mister decides NOW is the time, and in the blink of an eye we were closing the door to our Mt. Juliet house for the last time.  We moved and I have been unsettled ever since.  I started feeling guilty because I wasn’t happy here. After all, it was me that wanted to leave Tennessee. But we didn’t move to the prairie, or to a little New England village, we moved to a part of the country where we’d spent a grand total of about four days.  We wanted our grandgirl to know us, we wanted her to have some family nearby, we wanted to see her grow up and not just get glimpses on FaceTime and brief visits.  So I still feel that we did the right thing. But I blew my life up in exchange for that.  I left behind the dearest friends of my life.  I left behind a patch of paradise that had taken me over twenty years to cultivate. Every flowering tree and shrub perfectly positioned to be enjoyed inside and out, a field behind the house that provided glorious sunsets nightly and bird song and deer visitors daily.  We won’t even talk about the conveniences we left behind. Everything from our choice of well-stocked grocery stores to my doctor, dentist, and mammogram in one building just 4 miles from home.  And can we talk about the drive to our house in Mt. Juliet?  Beautiful. Passing ponds and pastures, horses, mama cows and new calves, it was soothing.  So...you understand that I was missing the world I’d created there, and some of the stuff that I didn’t create but appreciated.   We’d spent time and money updating the Mt. Juliet house, I’m not surprised the new owners fell in love with it right away.  So it was a big pill to swallow when I saw this house and its outdated bathrooms, kitchen, etc.  Time and money will also make this house pretty, but I felt like it set us back twenty years.  Know what’ll take your mind off of that sort of thing? COVID. Yep, after two years of being careful I moved here and COVID walked right in the front door.  Three of us had it, Mickey, Matt and me. The Edgewater gang escaped it.  It wasn’t fun.  Mickey and Matt seemed to breeze through it, I had it a little rough.  I wonder if it was because I was the only one with the J&J vaccine?  Anywho, I got over it. Then I got a rebound case. Good times. I honestly didn’t feel like myself for at least another month. Fast forward to the recent surprise of a kidney stone, the removal, and all of that gross stuff and I feel that out of the eight months we’ve been here, I haven’t felt great for a big chunk of that time. So, world on fire, menopause, pandemic, big move and loss (sprinkle some guilt on top of that for feeling ungrateful), illness times two, is it any wonder that I’m not feeling like my normal, chirpy, chipper self?  Honestly, I’m proud of myself for not being behind bars.  I should add to the list that I am Mickey’s cheerleader, therapist, and jester.  When he is stressed at work, mad about work, worried about work I listen, advise, cheer him up, and just absorb all of that negativity.  I felt an enormous amount of guilt recently - after Christmas I had the grandgirl here for a few days, Matt was also here and I was busy, busy, busy keeping a four year old alive and putting three meals a day on the table for a crowd and cleaning up after a crowd. Mickey asked if I’d proofread something for work, I’ve done that plenty in the past (don’t gauge my skills by this blog). I had about three plates spinning at the time and told him to print it out for me and I’d read it at bedtime.  He did and then I forgot all about it.  Worst wife in the world. World on fire, hormones, pandemic, big move and loss, illness times two, negativity ,and guilt.  All of that came together in a perfect storm and made me (I hate to even say it) an unhappy camper.  This just isn’t me.  I don’t want to be this person!  So I’m determined to fix it. That’s what I do. I fix things and mend people.  I’ve mended myself more times than I can count, so I can do it again.  Starting today I am focusing on positives.  As far as politics, I can’t bury my head in the sand but I can roll back my emotional response and still stay informed and active.  Let me share with you a quote that has helped me immensely: “When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it–always.”     ~ Mahatma Gandhi It’s true.  I can’t change the minds of crazy people or keep people from lying, but I can continue to champion for good.  This house isn’t perfect, but oh, it is filled with love and laughter. How lucky am I? I will always miss my friends, but aren’t we fortunate that we can email, FaceTime, and even squeeze in visits?  It wasn’t always that easy. I plan to get more involved with the thriving art community here and hopefully meet some lovely people. I will always miss my peaceful patch on Olivia Court.  We don’t have deer grazing in our backyard, but we do have a little girl who refers to her blow-up pool in our yard as Mermaid Lagoon.  I can create a beautiful sanctuary here - it’s just going to take a lot of work. As for illness, I’m a firm believer that stress and sorrow can make us sick.  I’ve let the last few years wear me down and I intend to remedy that.  Maybe part of it is age - though I didn’t think 59 qualified as decrepit.  I am tired, but I think a morning walk every day in Martinak State Park will revive me.  It will do double duty, providing exercise as well as the nature and bird song I’ve been missing. I’m tossing out the guilt because we’re allowed to feel the way we feel.  I’m not perfect and I don’t know a single perfect person.  I know myself well enough to know that I will conquer this glum feeling. I’m unsinkable. This time next year I’ll check the archives of this blog and say, “See? You made it!” If you’ve made it this far in my public pity party, give yourself a cookie. This has been my long-winded and scattered attempt at an explanation and an apology for the lack of fun content here. Feel free to click on the archives tab and choose any year and month for more entertaining reading.  I’m turning the corner on the final lap of this wild ride.  I’m asking the universe to throw me a bone. I am remembering to be deeply, deeply grateful for everything that is making my life beautiful and letting go of what isn’t.  2023 is a year for blooming.

Thanks for letting me purge. I’ll be back tomorrow to post pics from my walk at the park (pretty state park that’s just over two miles from the house) and that chicken soup recipe that I promised weeks ago. Sending out loads of love tonight. Grab some if you need it. Stay safe, stay well, be good to yourself.

Nancy

[antoine-roquentin]

obliquely, this is in reference to how formerly working class bastions in the midwest that used to elect socialists now elect republicans. if we all gave up the theory that LGBT people are normal, we might once again go back to the days where we elected socialists across the country. thomas frank, what’s the matter with kansas:

But its periodic bouts of leftism were what really branded Kansas with the mark of the freak. Every part of the country in the nineteenth century had labor upheavals and protosocialist reform movements, of course. In Kansas, though, the radicals kept coming out on top. It was as though the blank landscape prompted dreams of a blank-slate society, a place where institutions might be remade as the human mind saw fit. Maps of the state from the 1880s show a hamlet (since vanished) called Radical City; in nearby Crawford County the town of Girard was home to the Appeal to Reason, a socialist newspaper whose circulation was in the hundreds of thousands. In that same town, in 1908, Eugene Debs gave a fiery speech accepting the Socialist Party’s nomination for president; in 1912 Debs actually carried Crawford County, one of four he won nationwide. (All were in the Midwest.) In 1910 Theodore Roosevelt signaled his own lurch to the left by traveling to Kansas and giving an inflammatory address in Osawatomie, the onetime home of John Brown.

The most famous freak-out of them all was Populism, the first of the great American leftist movements.* Populism tore through other states as well—wailing all across Texas, the South, and the West in the 1890s—but Kansas was the place that really distinguished itself by its enthusiasm. Driven to the brink of ruin by years of bad prices, debt, and deflation, the state’s farmers came together in huge meetings where homegrown troublemakers like Mary Elizabeth Lease exhorted them to “raise less corn and more hell.” The radicalized farmers marched through the small towns in day-long parades, raging against what they called the “money power.” And despite all the clamor, they still managed to take the state’s traditional Republican masters utterly by surprise in 1890, sweeping the small-town slickers out of office and ending the careers of many a career politician. In the decade that followed they elected Populist governors, Populist senators, Populist congressmen, Populist supreme court justices, Populistcity councils, and probably Populist dogcatchers, too; men of strong ideas, curious nicknames, and a colorful patois....

For a generation, Kansas has been the testing-ground for every experiment in morals, politics, and social life. Doubt of all existing institutions has been respectable. Nothing has been venerable or revered merely because it exists or has endured. Prohibition, female suffrage, fiat money, free silver, every incoherent and fantastic dream of social improvement and reform, every economic delusion that has bewildered the foggy brains of fanatics, every political fallacy nurtured by misfortune, poverty and failure, rejected elsewhere, has here found tolerance and advocacy.

Today the two myths are one. Kansas may be the land of averageness, but it is a freaky, militant, outraged averageness. Kansas today is a burned-over district of conservatism where the backlash propaganda has woven itself into the fabric of everyday life. People in suburban Kansas City vituperate against the sinful cosmopolitan elite of New York and Washington, D.C.; people in rural Kansas vituperate against the sinful cosmopolitan elite of Topeka and suburban Kansas City. Survivalist supply shops sprout in neighborhood strip-malls. People send Christmas cards urging their friends to look on the bright side of Islamic terrorism, since the Rapture is now clearly at hand.

Under the state’s simple blue flag are gathered today some of the most flamboyant cranks, conspiracists, and calamity howlers the Republic has ever seen. The Kansas school board draws the guffaws of the world for purging state science standards of references to evolution. Cities large and small across the state still hold out against water fluoridation, while one tiny hamlet takes the additional step of requiring firearms in every home. A prominent female politician expresses public doubts about the wisdom of women’s suffrage, while another pol proposes that the state sell off the Kansas Turnpike in order to solve its budget crisis. Impoverished inhabitants of the state’s most scenic area fight with fanatical determination to prevent a national park from opening up in their neighborhood, while the rails-to-trails program, regarded everywhere else in the union as a harmless scheme for family fun, is reviled in Kansas as an infernal design on the rights of property owners. Operation Rescue selects Wichita as the stage for its great offensive against abortion, calling down thirty thousand testifying fundamentalists on the city, witnessing and blocking traffic and chaining themselves to fences. A preacher from Topeka travels the nation advising Americans to love God’s holy hate, showing up wherever a gay person has been in the news to announce that “God Hates Fags.” Survivalists and secessionists dream of backyard confederacies out on the lone prairie; schismatic Catholics declare the pope himself to be insufficiently Catholic; Posses Comitatus hold imaginary legal proceedings, sternly prosecuting state officials for participating in actual legal proceedings; and homegrown terrorists swap conspiracy theories at a house in Dickinson County before screaming off to strike a blow against big government in Oklahoma City.

the problem with this simple story is that social liberalism actually grew in lockstep with an economic policy tailored to the poor. in the 70s, the most common place to get gender reassignment surgery was at a catholic hospital in small town colorado. in 2010, in response to deep opposition in the town, the practice was forced to move to california. the second most common place was at a baptist hospital in oklahoma city, where such surgery was viewed as routine until a number of religious leaders decided to oppose it in the 70s. at the same time, many other religious leaders spoke out in favour of the surgery, saying that it comported well with religious tenets.

likewise, colorado legalized abortion in 1967, as did states like kansas, missouri, georgia, and north and south carolina prior to roe v wade. today, these states are considered anti-abortion and anti-lgbt hotspots, yet prior to the late 70s, compassion for such people was viewed as paramount in the life of america’s christians. so what happened? it clearly wasn’t an emphasis on the social aspects of poor american lives that shifted the political arena in favour of religious conservatism. rather, as thomas frank points out in the same book:

Nobody mows their own lawn in Mission Hills anymore, and only a foot soldier in its armies of gardeners would park a Pontiac there. The doctors who lived near us in the seventies have pretty much been gentrified out, their places taken by the bankers and brokers and CEOs who have lapped them repeatedly on the racetrack of status and income. Every time I paid Mission Hills a visit during the nineties, it seemed another of the more modest houses in our neighborhood had been torn down and replaced by a much larger edifice, a three-story stone chateau, say, bristling with turrets and porches and dormers and gazebos and a three-car garage. The dark old palaces from the twenties sprouted spiffy new slate roofs, immaculately tailored gardens, remote-controlled driveway gates, and sometimes entire new wings. One grand old pile down the street from us was fitted with shiny new gutters made entirely of copper. A new house a few doors down from Esrey’s spread is so large it has two multicar garages, one at either end.

These changes are of course not unique to Mission Hills. What has gone on there is normal in its freakishness. You can observe the same changes in Shaker Heights or La Jolla or Winnetka or Ann Coulter’s hometown of New Canaan, Connecticut. They reflect the simplest and hardest of economic realities: The fortunes of Mission Hills rise and fall in inverse relation to the fortunes of ordinary working people. When workers are powerful, taxes are high, and labor is expensive (as was the case from World War II until the late seventies), the houses built here are smaller, the cars domestic, the servants rare, and the overgrown look fashionable in gardening circles. People read novels about eccentric English aristocrats trapped in a democratic age, sighing sadly for their lost world.

When workers are weak, taxes are down, and labor is cheap (as in the twenties and again today), Mission Hills coats itself in shimmering raiments of gold and green. Now the stock returns are plush, the bonus packages fat, the servants affordable, and the suburb finds that the princely life isn’t dead after all. It builds new additions and new fountains and new Italianate porches overlooking Olympic-sized flower gardens maintained by shifts of laborers. People read books about the glory of empire. The kids get Porsches or SUVs when they turn sixteen; the houses with asphalt roofs discreetly disappear; the wings that were closed off are triumphantly reopened, and all is restored to its former grandeur. Times may be hard where you live, but here events have yielded a heaven on earth, a pleasure colony out of the paintings of Maxfield Parrish.

america's workers and small farmers were saved by the reforms of the 1930s, as frank explains, then crushed as the wealthy found out how to squirrel away their taxes (in part thanks to the collapse of the british empire), accumulate wealth away from prying eyes, lobby the government for preferential treatment, and between 1976 and 2000, triumph completely in the political domain. mission hill donates more money to politicians than the rest of kansas combined. unions are swamped in state politics, and see declining fortunes. as a result, neoliberal social atomization takes effect, which sees even workers demanding beggar-thy-neighbour policies. and when thy neighbour is socially distinct from you, it becomes easier to justify voting for such politics based on a survival instinct. the majority of the working class tuned out and do not vote any more. among the rest, low skilled working class jobs in highly stratified and inequitable cities vote democrat, hoping for some patronage from the white collar creative class voters they serve, while blue collar skilled workers tend to vote republican, devoid of any examples of class politics in their lives with the death of unions and hoping to keep their share of wages against their only opposition, the tax man.

ultimately, any socially liberal politics sustained by donations from rich big city donors is unsustainable. on the other hand, the notion that “woke” politics is holding back leftism is, save for a few clearly absurd situations (robin diangelo, for instance) also wrong. economic leftism leads to social leftism, because respect to the working class leads to respect for its identities. neoliberal atomization is a much deeper force than can be surmounted at the ballot box, even in a primary, but it is always an economic force first and foremost.

[thethousandyearwitch]

Eye for an Eye

A "Medical Experimentation"/Black Market Surgery KakuHida fic, because it came to me in a dream.

"Hidan wakes up after a wild night, only to find himself in an uncomfortable and yet enticing predicament featuring a good looking stranger and the miracle of Jashin. And maybe both parties can get something out of this situation..."

Rating: Explicit due to some gruesome talk

Ship: KakuHida

Words: 1702

AO3 Link

Nauseating Darkness. That was the first thing Hidan perceived when he woke up. The feeling of a room, that you’re not even seeing, spinning.

He should have known that this would happen, after the hot bartender kept pouring drinks on the house before he could even finish them. It wasn’t his intention to get drunk off his ass, but free alcohol and shallow compliments from some goth chick can change a night quite quickly.

Reflexively, the man tried to turn to his side to soothe his nausea, only to feel a firm resistance on his wrists. The restrictive movement called his attention toward how cold he felt overall, and how fucking uncomfortable whatever he was laying on was. At the same time, he could hear some movement close to him come to a halt.

“Hey, hey, I’m not in the mood for some BDSM games, I think I’m gonna hurl.” He slurred and tested the restrains again. A gurgle crept up from his abdomen, and the suffocating darkness still wasn’t giving way to any light.

“What the fuck.” A deep voice echoed, definitely not from the cute bartender that Hidan had hoped he took home with him. It wasn’t a question, more of a baffled statement. The young man wasn’t a stranger to taking men home with him, but this was definitely not planned, and the unclear discomfort from his abdomen that stretched all the way to his sternum was enough of a boner-killer that he just wanted to get a shower and a prairie oyster.

“Dude, just, uncuff me, get this fucking blindfold off, and I promise I’ll write you a 3page essay apology for the missed sex or whatever.”

“What- No, stop. Listen closely to me.” The deeper voice came steadily closer, and Hidan was sure he could feel the warmth of another body inching closer to his. “I am not about to fuck your sorry ass. You had some real bad luck, and drew the interest of one of my clients, who paid me to remove your eyes and a couple of organs.”

The spinning inside of his head only got worse, and Hidan let out a confused groan. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“There’s no blindfold, dumbass, your eyes are already sitting on my desk ready for pick-up. I don’t even know how or why you are alive; you’re probably banged up on some drug cocktail that cancelled mine out. But you’re going to bleed out any second. No hard feelings.”

Oh. He’s been tricked. Of course, free drinks are never truly free, but he’s never paid with organs before. First time for everything.

The pressure on his body became clearer to him now. He could feel the burning edges of an incision, reaching roughly from 1cm below his bellybutton up to the tip of his sternum, between the 6th and 7thrib. The foreign body that squirmed itself under his ribcage, wrapped itself with learned precision around his heart, that could only be a human hand.

“Can you not afford a bone saw like any other unlicensed doctor?” Hidan laughed and could feel the pressure on his lungs. Every muscle in his body slowly started to follow his command again, warming back up with steady relaxation and contraction.

“I don’t need to justify my expenses to a dead man talking. I don’t care about leaving a neatly chopped up body, and neither does my guy who’ll get rid of you after the job.” Something cold and sharp pressed against Hidans Aorta, a scalpel, he was sure. “Any last words?”

The pain from the incision gave way to a booming headache, itching and scratching the inside of his skull. Slowly, white spots came into his visions, like a night sky that revealed itself one star at a time. “Yeah, what’s your name, asshole?”

“…Kakuzu. Goodby-“Before he could finish his parting words, Hidan snapped his arms free of the leather straps that held him down, and he threw himself at the other man’s throat, toppling both of them to the ground. His eyes had fully reconstructed themselves, and away from under the surgery lighting, he could slowly take in his surroundings in dimmer light.

“This place is a fucking shithole.” The floor was dirty, the walls and even the ceiling were covered in dark stains, an oakwood desk near the wall was held together with layers of yellow-ed glue, next to it a beat-up office chair with scotch-tape adorned seating. His eyes wandered to the man he kept pinned below him, covered in Hidans spilled out lower intestine. “You’re not too bad though, damn.”

His hands were wrapped around the throat of a well-build man, probably a couple years older than him, with rich, sepia brown skin, black hair tied in a knot. He wore a surgical mask, but it couldn’t fully cover the ends of what was clearly a not yet fully healed Glasgow-smile. But what was most striking about Kakuzu were his eyes; His sclera was a dull red, and his Iris were a bright emerald green. “Why would anyone want my eyes when you’ve got the grand prize resting in your skull?”

Under Hidans firm grip, he could feel the strength Kakuzu had to use just to speak up. “What the fuck are you?”

“I’m my gods most favorite little bastard! Now, how about a little trade, ‘kuzu?” He shifted his weight off of the other man’s windpipe, just enough to let him breathe under a strain.

“What do you want?”

“My guts, ideally back where they belong. And in return- “He grabbed Kakazu’s hand, which until now had been busy digging his fingernails into the immortal’s arm, and guided it to Hidans restored eyes. “-I’m sure your client would go bonkers over two sets of eyes.”

There was a pointed silence between the two, Hidan grinning as his internal organs tried to work against the pull of gravity, tissue already trying to reconnect itself with a painful burning sensation. For a moment he thought that the incision would close over his exposed organs before he’d get a response.

“Get on the table. I’m not going to waste anymore anaesthetics on you though, or else I won’t turn enough of a profit.”

Hidan climbed back on the operation table, arms rested behind his head, legs crossed leisurely. “Money greed is a sin, y’know?”

“That’s fine by me, I’ll buy myself a VIP seat when I get there.” Kakuzu readied a medical sewing kit, and unceremoniously crammed Hidans intestines back into his abdominal cave, to which he squirmed in response, but snickered as well.

“It’s not too late to repent! Jashin takes every poor soul that knocks on his door with the correct offerings, and I have a feeling you’ve got what it takes. And I’m living, breathing proof of his miracles. Or else how will you explain all of…this?” He waved his hand around in the general direction of his eyes and his open wound, and Kakuzu swatted his hand away.

“I don’t know, I don’t care. Maybe you’re the result of a radioactive freakshow. Maybe I’m finally succumbing to asbestos poisoning. Now hold still or I will have to tie you back down again.”

“Kinky! Say, after you’re done stealing my eyes again, wanna grab some drinks?”

“Drinks is how you got into this situation in the first place.”

“I’m not regretting it~”

This earned him an eye roll, though more importantly, he realized Kakuzu didn’t say ‘No’ to his proposition. The surgeon finished the final stitches and gave his work a satisfied nod. He placed a glass jar, filled with some strange liquid, on a smaller table next to the operation table, and leaned in closer to Hidans head. “Now for the money-makers.”

“Wait-wait-wait, how are you gonna take ‘em out? You’re not just gonna snatch them out with your fingers, right?” Hidan fidgeted, though his manic grin didn’t falter. His chest was rising and falling heavily with rapid breathing, pulling at the fresh stitches.

“You really are an idiot. The eyes are too delicate and firm to be taken out like that. I’ll be using a tool that looks like a spoon, but has the sharpness of a scalpel, to basically scoop them out. Getting scared?”

“Are you kidding? I’m really getting excited now…”

Kakuzu huffed and placed one hand on the right side of Hidans face, using his thumb to pull the skin under his eye down. “No squirming, or I’ll take your teeth as collateral.”

“Don’t entice me, ‘kuzu.”

The sharp, cold tool slid smoothly between eyelids and eyeball, and without much resistance it curved into the eye socket and severed the optical nerves. In just a second, Hidans vision on his right side went black, and his heart beat violently against his chest. The pain was overpowering, searing, and exciting.

The surgeon dropped the disconnected eyeball into the formaldehyde jar, and switched hands to get a better grip on the left side of Hidans face. “Halfway done. Need a break?”

“Stop being a fucking tease…” Hidan breathed out, face flushed with excitement, fingernails helplessly scratching at the side of the solid table.

And without any further warning, the tool slid behind the second eyeball, severed nerves, and discarded it into the jar.

Back to nauseating darkness. All of Hidans other senses felt enhanced, he could smell the preserving chemical mixed with his fresh blood, he could hear the buzzing of the lamp above him, he licked his lips and tasted only his sweat, and most of all, he could feel the lingering warmth of Kakuzus hand still on his face, his thumb brushing over Hidans cheekbone.

“You’re a walking organ bank.” The younger man didn’t reply, too busy with catching his breath. “I could save money on anaesthetics and trying to lure idiots to operate on. I’d have any organ anyone could want – on demand.”

“I’m not gonna let you cut me open every day for free, yknow?”

And suddenly Hidan could feel hot breath ghosting over his ear, so close that cold shivers ran down his spine.

“Maybe I do have some free time for a couple drinks, and a little business talk.”

[bardopticalpeoria]

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[optometristbard]

Schedule a visit with a Grand Prairie optometrist today!

The optometrists at Bard Optical have been dedicated to patient satisfaction, comfort, and high-quality care for nearly 80 years.

Bard Optical - Peoria Shoppes at Grand Prairie 7715 N. Grand Prairie Dr. Peoria, IL 61615 (309) 316-3888

https://www.bardoptical.com/eye-doctor-peoria-the-shoppes-at-grand-prairie/ https://www.facebook.com/BardOptical https://twitter.com/bardoptical https://www.instagram.com/bardoptical https://www.yelp.com/biz/bard-optical-peoria-6 https://www.pinterest.com/bardoptical https://maps.google.com/maps?cid=8095970190708414168 https://www.youtube.com/user/bardoptical

[eyedoctorgrandprairie]

Schedule an appointment with a Grand Prairie eye doctor today!

The eye doctors at Bard Optical have been dedicated to patient satisfaction, comfort, and high-quality care for nearly 80 years.

Bard Optical - Peoria Shoppes at Grand Prairie 7715 N. Grand Prairie Dr. Peoria, IL 61615 (309) 316-3888

https://www.bardoptical.com/eye-doctor-peoria-the-shoppes-at-grand-prairie/ https://www.facebook.com/BardOptical https://twitter.com/bardoptical https://www.instagram.com/bardoptical/ https://www.yelp.com/biz/bard-optical-peoria-6 https://www.pinterest.com/bardoptical/ https://maps.google.com/maps?cid=8095970190708414168 https://www.youtube.com/user/bardoptical

[luckystarphoto]

Sometimes my life is like list

Amy Jeanchaiyaphum May 10 2003

Sometimes my life is like smooth white sand.

Sometimes my life is like a stone smoothed by time and water.

Sometimes my life is like a slow leaky faucet.

Sometimes my life is like a rabbit hiding from a predator.

Sometimes my life is like a comfortable shoe.

Sometimes my life is like and abstraction of another life.

Sometimes my life is like an unwritten film.

Sometimes my life isn't like any other life.

Sometimes my life is like raku pottery glistening colors smelling of oil and smoke.

Sometimes my life is like the aerodynamic iridescence of butterfly wings.

Sometimes my life is like a cocoon.

Sometimes my life is like a Horney baboon.

Sometimes my life is like a roller coaster with no end.

Sometimes my life is like a holiday breakfast grapefruit with sugar and a maraschino cherry on top served cold in a hand made clay bowl.

Sometimes my life is like finding a first Grey hair.

Sometimes my life is like a deep cerulean sea.

Sometimes my life is like thinking you can breathe underwater.

Sometimes my life is like a coconut palm tree.

Sometimes my life is like congee in the morning in a busy alley in Thailand.

Sometimes my life is like a collection of invisible photographs only I can see.

Sometimes my life is like the storytelling cracks in ancient timber.

Sometimes my life is like toads moaning in the rain.

Sometimes my life is like waking up from a nightmare of weeping lepers and a dying mother to the sound of moaning toads.

Sometimes my life is like putting my mother in an oven like a giant chocolate chip cookie in a silky dress.

Sometimes my life is like a pink and blue baby blanket with worn satin edges.

Sometimes my life is like sucking a thumb forever.

Sometimes my life is like an itch wool hat.

Sometimes my life is like an itchy wool sweater made with " LOVE".

Sometimes my life is like my putting on my dad's smelly white motorcycle helmet.

Sometimes my life is like a car driving on water.

Sometimes my life is like an elephant ice-skating.

Sometimes my life is like poodle fur.

Sometimes my life is like a herd of buffalo in South Dakota.

Sometimes my life is like penguins painting in the sun

Sometimes my life is like Floating in space.

Sometimes my life is like a noisy drag race.

Sometimes my life is like Evil Knievel.

Sometimes my Life is like a bonfire in a stone pit.

Sometimes my life is like kitty cat kisses.

Sometimes my life is like the silky seed inside a milkweed pod.

Sometimes my life is like finding a giant agate in a huge dirt pit.

Sometimes I never look at the sky.

Sometimes my life is like seeing the earth from the sky.

Sometimes m Life is like riding in the trunk of a car.

Sometimes my life is like not being picked at all in a roller skating snowball, an own birthday party.

Sometimes my life is like hiding in the curtains and talking about peace in a dodgeball. Game.

Sometimes my life is like being the last one standing in a dodgeball game.

Sometimes my life is like being the last one chosen to be on a team, but not really feeling like taking any part in the team anyway.

Sometimes my life is like a Jackson Pollack painting.

Sometimes my life is like a centerfold ripped in half.

Sometimes my life is like music played by an inexperienced musician.

Sometimes my life is like Perfect music heard in a dream.

Sometimes my life is like an unplayed piano

Sometimes my life is like my mothers Goya guitar.

Sometimes my life is like a cobblestone road.

Sometimes my life is like driving across the Lift Bridge while it's going up.

Sometimes my life is like a circus with too many clowns.

Sometimes my life is like a circus with no clowns.

Sometimes my life is like having a circus in the living room.

Sometimes my life is like a pregnant painted pony.

Sometimes my life is like a prairie sky.

Sometimes m life is like a chandelier growing living grapes flashing with crystal rainbows and light.

Sometimes my life is like an oil lamp.

Sometimes my life is like an unread book.

Sometimes my life is like an owner's manual for a useless appliance.

Sometimes my life is like tripping over nothing.

Sometimes m life is like wearing my grandpa's thick blurry glasses just for fun.

Sometimes my life is like… By A Jeanchaiyaphum Page 3

Sometimes my life is like a hotel.

Sometimes my life is like a ceremony.

Sometimes my life is like a celebration where everyone is included.

Sometimes my life is like a lonely celebration.

Sometimes my life is like a silent moment before a performance.

Sometimes my life is like giving the performance of a like time inspiring everybody and not remembering a thing.

Sometimes my life is like being thirsty on a train between two countries, having a pocket full of money but it isn't the correct currency.

Sometimes m life is like Spray painting on the Berlin wall hoping to leave a mark forever, 6 months before the wall is torn down forever.

Sometimes my life is like a lover waiting.

Sometimes my life is like the end of thirst.

Sometimes my life is like dry blue cheese on dry toast when dehydrated.

Sometimes my life is like a mussel-free from its shell laughing like a maniac and waving goodbye before it jumps down the hole in the train toilet and runs away down the track s of Chur Switzerland.  Hoping to climb the Matterhorn and ski in the Olympics.

Sometimes my life is like finding a severed black braid of a supermodel under a bathroom sink in the home of the man who loved her.

Sometimes my life is like watching a party from under the antique table everyone else is eating at it.

Sometimes my life is like a tablecloth made and dyed in India covered in candle wax wine and curry.

Sometimes my life is like hiding in round rotating clothes rack filled with new clothing at a department store.

Sometimes my life is like turning the page.

Sometimes my life is like coming of age.

Sometimes my life is like sitting next to Jesus in a church pew, having a conversation about love and philosophy, while the rest of the congregation is waiting for you to get saved.

Sometimes my life is like a new creation.

Sometimes my life is like being smoothed by muses.

Sometimes my life is like list By A. Jeanchaiyaphum Page 4

Sometimes my life is like a chained up muse.

Sometimes my life is like Kirchner’s lost hand.

Sometimes my life is like sunburn.

Sometimes my life a vegetarian forced to kill and eat meat.

Sometimes my life is like a vegetarian at a veggie buffet.

Sometimes my life is like sitting on a public bus filled with divine beings.

Sometimes my life is like sliding barefoot on new wet concrete.

Sometimes my life is like the smell of fresh timber in new construction.

Sometimes my life is like a national monument.

Sometimes my life is like the statue of liberty greeting all the new kids.

Sometimes my life is like a national park.

Sometimes my life is like having a surgeon cut your bangs.

Sometimes my life is like a museum.

Sometimes my life is like grading papers with my dad.

Sometimes my life is like having my mom do my homework.

Sometimes my life is like eating stew with long-absent family at grandma's house.

Sometimes my life is like a van with wall to wall carpet.

Sometimes my life is like being a kid with the keys to the candy store.

Sometimes my life is like driving a golf cart with a dying battery while being chased by nasty geese

Sometimes my life is like swimming in the bathtub.

Sometimes my life is like learning to skate on the bumpy pond.

Sometimes my life is like A whale in a china shop.

Sometimes my life is like a recipe

Sometimes m life is like a Rorschach test.

Sometimes my life is like a woolly caterpillar.

Sometimes my life is like fleeing from Pharos.

Sometimes my life is like everybody calling me a witch and wishing they were correct.

Sometimes my life is like release time on the playground

Sometimes my life is like the sound of a giant gong.

Sometimes my life is like an exhibition.

Sometimes my life is like an island in peaceful water.

Sometimes my life is like dragonflies embracing and gliding over the water.

Sometimes my life is like floating on my back in the perfectly warm sea looking up at the perfect sky floating above me.

Sometimes my Fe is like stalking a family of familiar strangers

Sometimes my life is like loving someone deeply and never letting them know.

Sometimes my life is like … 

Sometimes my life is like a fiddler on the roof.

Sometimes my life is like a pancake on the roof.

Sometimes my life is like a portfolio lost in the middle of a freeway.

Sometimes my life is like a magician's kit.

Sometimes my life is like playing with a real doctor's bag.

Sometimes my life is like a slide under a microscope.

Sometimes my life is like an enormous healthy tree.

Sometimes my life is like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon talking to a raven feeling overwhelmed at 30.

Sometimes my life is like detention just for fun.

Sometimes my life is like taking the blame for stealing the book money so the whole class could go home,

Sometimes my life is like living in a magical kingdom.

Sometimes my life is like a glass of tab with a slice of lemon in a glass filled with Ice.

Sometimes my life is like examining how ice forms in the ice cube tray.

Sometimes my life is like watching paint dry.

Sometimes my life is like a house claustrophobic with cigarette smoke.

Sometimes my life is like the smell of red wine and cigars.

Sometimes my life is like playing dress up with friends.

Sometimes m life is like a blessing.

Sometimes my life is like the life of a sheepdog trapped in a human body.

Sometimes my life is like an upside down yoga pose.

Sometimes my life is like an undiscovered treasure.

Sometimes my life is like dipping hands in wax while my nose is dripping.

Sometimes my life is like making gods eyes out of yarn.

Sometimes my life is like building haunted houses with my brother.

Sometimes my life is like quitting a play because the role wasn't big enough.

Sometimes my life is like selling painted rocks and lemonade.

Sometimes my life is like playing forever.

Sometimes my life is like flying to the moon in a lazy boy chair.

Sometimes my life is like singing to deer in the Forrest.

Sometimes my life is like mining for diamonds.

Sometimes my life is like leftover pieces made into a quilt.

Sometimes my life is like pulling the stuffing out of upholstery through a little hole.

Sometimes m life is like playing shipwreck in a library.

Sometimes my life is like coaxing snails out of their shells.

Sometimes my life is like, page 6

Sometimes my life is like an embracing secret admiration.

Sometimes my life is like gearing exactly what I want.

Sometimes my life is like an invention.

Sometimes my life is like a sweat lodge sometimes my life is like a close encounter. Sometimes my life is like a POW wow.

Sometimes my life is like the smell of broiled steak.

Sometimes my life is like a well-furnished trailer.

Sometimes my life is like a hand made bunk bed painted cheese whiz yellow?

Sometimes my life is like making friend with my turds before I have to flush them.

Sometimes my life is like talking to inanimate objects.

Sometimes my life is like the ripped out pages of a journal.

Sometimes my life is like having some on read my journal and publish it and not real y caring.

Sometimes my life is like Et hiding in the mound of stuffed animals.

Sometimes my life is like preparing and waiting for Santa Claus and not being able to starry up all night then waking up to find that he has been there and given more than you ever expected.

Sometimes my life is like finding out who really did that and made that real.

Sometimes my life is like helping out knowing the truth but waking up with exactly the same feeling.

Sometimes my life is like a perfectly produced holiday special celebrations.

Sometimes my life is like eating crab legs and drawn butter for 5 weeks straight.

Sometimes my life is like the Easter bunny showing up and hiding eggs in my Jewish grandparent's house.

Sometimes my life is like a room full of trophies.

Sometimes my life is like pop bottles on the back stairs.

Sometimes my life is like seeing the skeleton paper in my grandmother's closet.

Sometimes my life is like an attic full of everything you could ever need.

Sometimes my life is like healing.

Some times my life is like boo rock.

Some times my life is like believing my dad really could find cookies in my ears.

Sometimes my life is like an albatross. Sometimes my life is like a silent phone call. Sometimes my life is like a sitcom.

Sometimes my life is like the smell of dad's helmet.

Sometimes my life is like going down the rapids in a boat driven by strangers.

Sometimes my life is like…. 

Sometimes my life is like knowing all the secrets and keeping them.

Sometimes my life is like Chocolate ice cream on the back of a bicycle.

Sometimes my life is like riding into Sa tree your first time out.

Sometimes my life is like opening a gift.

Sometimes my life is like jumping a motorcycle over a dirt pit to impress someone, and after succeeding realizing that no one saw you do it at all.

Sometimes my life is like being lazy to wait.

Sometimes my life is like a road trip.

Sometimes my life is like  

[lavendercare]

When Allergies Attack, Fight Back With Air Duct Cleaning

Allergies, be they seasonal, environmental, animal-based or otherwise, can be the bane of your existence through much if not all of the year. Sneezing, clogged nasal passages, watery eyes, coughs, congestion, headaches all things that can make life one big experience of misery if left unchecked.

Yet, to check it means to have endless doctor's appointments, multiple medications, constant trips to the drugstore, unpleasant nasal sprays and eye drops and so many other methods just to let you sleep more than five hours in a night. There is, however something else that you can do that can clear up much of your allergy problem and is completely overlooked on a regular basis: air duct cleaning.

While it is common to find an allergy sufferers go through a deep clean of the house, moving furniture and waxing floors, all preparing for an oncoming allergy season, they often miss a critical part. Cleaning the floors and carpets is all well and good, but if you leave the vents unchecked or only clean the very front of them, you are asking for more trouble.

Allergens like pollen, dust, mold and animal hair can get caught in the air ducts and find themselves reproducing and recycling themselves throughout your home or office through the air duct system. Every time you turn up the air conditioner or turn up the heat, you are inviting more contaminants into the room and are preparing yourself for another great sneeze fest.

Many choose to try to clean out the air ducts themselves and generally it is only a mild success. While it may seem simple, the execution is quite complex and really requires a properly trained, skilled duct cleaning professional to get in there and thoroughly clean it out.

Air duct cleaning professionals have unergone extensive training to learn how to remove, clean and replace any duct or vent in your home or office without having to worry about breaking parts or scuffing walls that come so often when do-it-yourself repairs are attempted. Professionals also know many tricks of the trade like hidden places where mold, pollen and the like can store themselves that otherwise might be missed in a cleaning.

A professional can do the job during off hours for an office or while most everyone is out of the house for school and work, meaning that they can have the job done before anyone even knows it was happening.

Lavender Care is your best choice in keeping your home fresh and inviting. We offer a variety of cleaning services guaranteed to preserve your home’s natural beauty. Find Air Duct Cleaning Services:

Air Duct Cleaning hurst

Air Duct Cleaning Rowlett

Air Duct Cleaning woylie

Air Duct Cleaning Bedford

Air Duct Cleaning Southlake

Air Duct Cleaning Fairview

Air Duct Cleaning cedar hill

Air Duct Cleaning Coppell

Air Duct Cleaning Irving

Air Duct Cleaning grapevine

Air Duct Cleaning Carrollton

Air Duct Cleaning fresco

Air Duct Cleaning Addison

Air Duct Cleaning Allen

Air Duct Cleaning highland park

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Air Duct Cleaning McKinney

Air Duct Cleaning Richardson

Air Duct Cleaning Lancaster

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Air Duct Cleaning Plano

Air Duct Cleaning Lewisville

[iseeopticalca]

Dominant Eye Test: A Detailed Overview of the Subject

The normal visual state, in which the two eyes cooperate well and possess equal visual acuity, is called the "dominant eye" in most contexts. The clarity of vision is an indication of visual acuity. One is the dominant eye if it is the "guiding" or preferred.

A dominant eye test in Grande Prairie AB can identify your dominant eye.How to identify the dominant eye? 

Your dominant vision is the eye that communicates object positioning information to your visual cortex with a slightly higher accuracy. By performing this quick visual field eye test in Grande Prairie, you can identify which eye is dominant:

Put your hands in a triangle formation and extend your arms before you. Center this triangle over a far-off object, such as a wall painting, while keeping both eyes open. Shut your right eye first, then your left. When the thing fixed near the triangle stays in the center while the opposite eye is closed, you may determine which of your eyes is your dominant eye.

Such dominant eye tests are easy to do and typically accurate, but other non-visual variables can influence them. According to some research, a non-sighting dominant eye test in Grande Prairie may be a more precise way to determine eye dominance because it cuts out these confounding factors.

The subject keeps their eyes open throughout the testing as each eye receives visual stimulation from specialized optical devices. Non-sighting dominant eye tests may require specialized equipment and training only available in optical clinics or research facilities.Get a better understanding of your result

Simple sighted eye tests, like those above, can usually determine whether your left or right vision is more dominant.

Get a better understanding of your result

If you want a better & in-depth response to your queries regarding your eye test in Grande Prairie AB, get tested by iSEE Optical. Set your appointment through our website & get an accurate, simple test result.

For more info please visit our page: https://iseeopticalca.blogspot.com/

Google My Business Profile: https://g.page/iSeeopticalgp?share

FB Page- https://www.facebook.com/iSeeopticalgp/

[bloggersohan]

Problems Solving for Dental Patients

A healthy mind living in a healthy body.  If the body is healthy, the mind is good.  This requires physical fitness.  But there are always problems with different parts of our body.  Physical illness is felt when there is a problem with any part of the body.  Treatment is needed to resolve physical illness or physical problems.  It is possible to recover through proper treatment.  And it is necessary to find the right doctor.  There are different physicians for different parts of the body such as: there are eye doctors to solve eye problems and there are dentists called dentists to solve dental problems. 

If there is any problem in the teeth, a good dentist can give the solution.

Teeth are one of the most important part of our oral beauty.  Laughter is one of the means of expressing one's thoughts.  A healthy smile with healthy and beautiful teeth becomes more and more attractive.  Teeth help us chew food.  That is why teeth are an important part of the body like other parts.  Therefore, it is necessary to keep the teeth healthy and beautiful through care.  Need to brush regularly.  Due to carelessness of the teeth and eating too much sugary foods, chocolate, etc., there are various problems in the teeth.

 Another problem among dental problems is tooth decay or absence of teeth.  Some people have dental problems after birth and some people have broken teeth due to an accident.  Many of these problems exist.  All the dentists in the world are constantly providing their services to solve this problem.

 One such support group in the world is Boisson Dental Group which has been one of the leading dental clinics in Grande Prairie for over 28 years.  Their only goal is to provide the best service to their clients.  Officers from the Boison Dental Group are dedicated to educating patients about proper dental care and making them aware of the importance of teeth.  It is possible to contact them directly by phone or email. Their friendly staff will be more than happy to answer your questions and provide assistance.It is possible to solve the problem of teeth with proper treatment and care at the right time.

Good treatment requires the help of a good dentist.  The staff at Boisson Dental Group Family are fully committed to solving your problem.  The modern medical system is much better than before.  Physicians first try to diagnose the disease and then provide the right treatment to cure it.  It is necessary to go to the doctor from time to time to keep the teeth healthy.

 Dental bonding is a method that offers advice for solving various dental problems.  The members of Vaishnava Dental Group provide services for solving various dental problems.  If you suffer from any dental problem, you can easily get help from here.

 Contact information

Boisson Dental Group

212, 11601-101 Ave Grande Prairie

AB, T8V   3 9

E-mail:  info@boissondental.ca

Phone: (587) 771-7668

[sandybrow2]

FYidoctors

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Complete Listings Overview Learn More

Optometrists usually follow one of two business models: they either work for themselves as a small, independent business; or, they work for a large corporate entity, often tucked into the corner of a big-box store. Dr. Alan Ulsifer thought there had to be a better way. He envisioned a middle ground—doctor-owned but also structured to leverage economies of scale. He was right. FYidoctors, founded in 2008 to unite 23 private practices, has since grown to become the largest doctor-owned eye care provider in Canada. “As optometrists, we can control our own destiny and make decisions about what is good for the patient,” says Ulsifer.

His approach was popular with patients, too, right from Ulsifer’s early days as an optometrist when he partnered with two other doctors to open Northern Vision Centre in Grande Prairie, Alta., in 1996. The centre was conceptualized as a grand space, which would use the best diagnostic technologies, bring lens manufacturing on-site and, most importantly, prioritize patient care. As the Grande Prairie business grew, Ulsifer started talking to a number of colleagues about creating a shareholder-based business. “It gave us the opportunity, the size and scale of some of the biggest competitors out there,” he says. “It was the concept of being much stronger, together, than we could ever be on our own.”

The company has used acquisition to grow in leaps and bounds since then. Today, it’s in every province, employing 2,900 staff across 262 locations, with another 40 practices in its buying group. And FYidoctors isn’t slowing. It has plans to expand south of the border, with the first U.S. locations opening in California later this year.

Part of the value proposition that has helped recruit independent optometrists is the FYidoctors ophthalmic lab in Delta, B.C., which opened in 2008. Today, the lab can make as many as 2,000 custom pairs of glasses per day. This bucks the trend in lens manufacturing, which is to save on labour and move offshore. “It was important for us to have something made in Canada,” Ulsifer says. “That’s given us the strategic advantage of delivery times, and helps us control the products we make.”

There were growing pains as the company scaled up. With its vast geographic footprint, one of the management challenges is getting staff on the same page, whether they’re in Campbell River, B.C., or Gander, Nfld. FYidoctors achieves this through consistent training. A dedicated training team travels the country; plus the company also has a custom online learning portal, FYiUniversity. It also cultivates a culture of career-long learning by paying for additional staff training, time off to complete schooling, and incentives for course completion—a combination of raises, bonuses and prizes. FYidoctors does all this using a coaching leadership philosophy. “We don’t really use the word ‘manager’—it’s ‘coaches,’ ” Ulsifer says. “Managers tell you what to do, but coaches bring out the best in you.”

FYidoctors is also turning to some of its top “coaches” within the company to dabble in influencer marketing. Venture capitalist and Dragons’ Den star Arlene Dickinson became a board member at FYidoctors in 2015. Last year, the company launched Sacori, a line of premium eyewear, curated by Dickinson. With frame names like “Director” and “Entrepreneur,” the line has become the number two selling brand for the company, behind Ray-Ban. “Arlene is also having a lot of fun with it,” Ulsifer says.

While FYidoctors has big plans for growth in the eye care sector, it’s moving into other health care businesses, too. In December, it announced the acquisition of ReNue, three Calgary-based clinics that offer aesthetic services, such as medical fillers and laser skin treatments. Ulsifer sees it as a huge opportunity. “It’s a very fragmented industry and there’s not any one national brand,” he says. “That’s the strategy, to create a quality, doctor-driven medical aesthetics organization that’s a trusted brand in Canada.” And, as the company continues to grow using its tried-and-tested doctor-owned model, it’s easy to envision a bright future for FYidoctors, in eye care and beyond.

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Even more of Canada’s Best Managed Companies » // API calls for recent posts to the 'best-managed-companies' tag. Grabs five of the given posts at random. NOTE: Post IDs are hard-coded below in `eligiblePosts` 'use strict'; var bodyClass = document.getElementsByTagName('body')[0].getAttribute('class'); var container = document.querySelector('#dynamicPosts'); // tag id for 'best-managed-companies' // var tagID = 351657; var postCount = 5; var exclude = parseInt(( bodyClass.indexOf('postid') >= 0 ? isolateID(bodyClass)[1] : 0)); var eligiblePosts = [1079843,1079845,1079849,1079851,1079853,1079855,1079857,1079859,1079861,1079863,1079865,1079867,1079869,1079873,1079875,1079877,1079879,1079881,1079885,1079887,1079889,1079891,1079893,1079895,1079897,1079899,1079901,1079903,1079905,1079907,1079909,1079911,1079913,1079915,1079917,1079919,1079921,1079925,1079923,1079927,1079929,1079931,1079933,1079935]; var chosenPosts = arrayRandomSubset(eligiblePosts, postCount, exclude); // subset of eligiblePosts, see function below var endpoint = 'http://www.canadianbusiness.com/wp-json/wp/v2/posts?'; endpoint += 'include=' + chosenPosts.join(','); endpoint += '&_embed'; fetch ( endpoint ) .then(function(response){ return response.json(); }) .then( function(data){ postsRender(data); }) .catch(function( err ){ console.log(err); }); function postsRender(data){ data.forEach(function(post){ // Define Post Elements // post container var thePost = document.createElement('div'); thePost.classList.add('row'); thePost.classList.add('bmc18-latest-post'); // visual holder var theVisual = document.createElement('div'); theVisual.classList.add('col-xs-12'); theVisual.classList.add('col-md-4'); // visual link var theImgLink = document.createElement('a'); theImgLink.setAttribute('href', post.link); theVisual.appendChild(theImgLink); // text holder var theText = document.createElement('div'); theText.classList.add('col-xs-12'); theText.classList.add('col-md-8'); theVisual.setAttribute('href', post.link); // the image var theImage = document.createElement('img'); theImage.setAttribute('src', post._embedded['wp:featuredmedia'][0].source_url); theImage.setAttribute('alt', post._embedded['wp:featuredmedia'][0].alt_text); theImgLink.appendChild(theImage); // the headline var theHed = document.createElement('h1'); theHed.innerHTML = '' + post.title.rendered + ''; theText.appendChild(theHed); // the dek var theDek = document.createElement('div'); theDek.innerHTML = post.excerpt.rendered; theText.appendChild(theDek); // the spacer var theDivider = document.createElement('hr'); //tack it all together thePost.appendChild(theVisual); thePost.appendChild(theText); container.appendChild(thePost); container.appendChild(theDivider); }); } // return the wordpress postID from the body class function isolateID( string ){ var pattern = /postid\-(\d+)?/; return string.match(pattern); } /** * From a given array, provide a subset * @param arr — the array from which to read the values * @param n — the number of results required * @param excl — a value to exclude from the results */ function arrayRandomSubset(arr, n, excl){ let out = []; // for the specified count, loop over the given array, select values randomly, and add them to the output array, but only if they aren’t already included. // NOTE: we temporarily increase the length of the loop to output an array of length n + 1. This is so that if there is an `excl` value provided for ( var i = 0; i < n + 1; i++ ){ // select a random position in the array let r = parseInt( Math.random() * arr.length ); // if the value at position `r` isn’t already in the output, add it if ( out.indexOf(arr[r]) < 0 ) { out.push(arr[r]); // if the value IS already in the output, decrement the loop to try again. } else { i--; } } // if the excluded value is not in the output, just trim to `n` results if ( out.indexOf(excl) < 0 ) { return out.splice(0, n); // if it IS in the output, remove it. } else { let e = out.splice(out.indexOf(excl), 1); return out; } }

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My Journey To You Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

SUMMARY: Sam and Mercedes deal with the stress of Rachel's illness; and Rachel continues to battle cancer; her fathers come to visit causing tension with Finn. Abby gets a big surprise.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Sex scenes, language

NOTES: Please excuse any errors!

ABA AND POP

When Rachel's fathers (Hiram and Sean otherwise known as Aba and Pop, or Zaide and Granddad, depending on whom was addressing them) arrived, Sam wasn't happy to see them. He understood their need to protect Rachel and their grand kids, but he also thought their criticism of Finn was unwarranted. Mercedes and the kids cleaned up the living room, though the rest of the house looked like a cyclone hit it. Hiram was a tall, dark-skinned black man, the color of a starless night sky; he was muscular and broad-shouldered and he always smelled like citrus cologne. Though not classically handsome, he had a rugged, masculinity that made him attractive. He wore a long sleeved cotton blue Henley shirt and black jeans. When he spoke, his voice was a deep rumble, reminding Sam of the voice of God in the old Ten Commandments movie with Charlton Heston. Hiram was originally from England, (Nottingham to be exact) and he spoke with an English accent; he came to the states to attend Harvard, and decided to stay. He leaned over and hugged Sam.

"Lovely to see you again, Sam, he said and handed him two large bags, loaded with groceries, "We made a stop at Orangix Plus. And there's more," he said and called over his shoulder, "Sean, don't forget the stuff in the boot!"

"Thank you, but we have enough – " Sam began to say but was interrupted.

"Yes, but Rachel only eats organic or macrobiotic."

Sam smiled and took the bags to the kitchen, biting his tongue about saying how Rachel wasn't as anal about a lot of things as she used to be. The other day she ate half a powdered sugar donut. Hiram followed him and upon entering the kitchen he said:

"Dear God, what the bloody hell happened in here?"

"Life is what happened," Sam said setting the bags on the counter, "Go on in the living room, that's where everyone is."

"I'll hire a cleaning service for you."

"Thanks, but – "

"It's not up for discussion. This is atrocious. I'll see you in the living room," he said and walked out of the kitchen.

Sam sighed and began putting away the groceries. Sean came into the kitchen with four more bags. He was shorter than his husband and more slender than muscular; he had bright blue eyes and salt and pepper hair that he kept cut rather close. He had the looks of an aging teen idol with his pearly white smile and tanned skin. Many women, young and old, found Sean attractive and since his sexuality was always hard to detect, they were deflated to see him kiss Hiram and introduce the beautiful man as his husband. In his younger days he had modeled and even did some acting, before he switched careers and developed antivirus software; he and Hiram were the owners of Steel Shield Antivirus software, a global corporation that made them a fortune and allowed their only daughter Rachel to live in luxury.

"Hello Sam," he said, setting the bags on the floor.

"Hi Sean, everyone is in the living room."

"I know an excellent cleaning service."

"Hiram is on it."

"Well, he does hate disorder."

"Yeah," Sam said as he put a carton of free range organic eggs into the fridge, "Thanks for the food."

Sean nodded and sat down, moving aside a pile of junk mail on the table, so he could rest his arms.

"Thank you for welcoming Rachel and her family into your new home like this. It's very kind of you especially considering you have children of your own."

"I love my brother; I couldn't see his family on the street."

"He wouldn't have been on the street if he had only listened. They could've stayed with us, heaven knows we have the room."

Sam tried to keep his cool but it was difficult so he changed the subject instead.

"Since you bought so much tea, how about I brew a pot of it and bring it in the living room with some of these gluten free blueberry muffins?"

Sean raised his eyebrows, but he didn't protest, he only stood up and said:

"Sounds good. I'll see you in the living room."

IN MY OLD LIFE

Rachel sat in the recliner with her feet propped up on the ottoman; she was wrapped in a pink prairie star quilt, and she wore big neon pink plush slide slippers on her feet; a white knit cap was on her bald held. Finn sat beside Rachel on the extra ottoman, holding her hand and kissing it now and again, avoiding eye contact with his father in laws, who sat on the loveseat adjacent to them. Rachel looked so thin and frail that Sam's heart broke every time he saw her, and today was no different. He held his composure as he walked into the living room with a tray of refreshments, rooibos tea and blueberry muffins. Mercedes sat on the couch with Rosy and Jake, occupying them with Elmo and Big Bird picture books, while she opened the gifts that Hiram and Sean got for the twins. The presents came in two big white boxes from a boutique called Marie Chantal.

"I've never heard of this store," she said, as she opened the first box.

"It's a boutique in England," Hiram said.

The first box had a beautiful white dress with all the frills and lace for a fairytale princess; it also came with a sparkling tiara. In the second box, was a lovely navy blue suit with a little blue bow tie.

"These clothes are gorgeous, you didn't have to – "

Sean held up his hand.

"You're family. Enough said."

"Thank you," Mercedes said.

"Yes, Thank you, Sam said setting the tray on the coffee table.

Matt, Lucy, and Abby sat on the floor opening their gifts. They all squealed with joy with what they received; Matt got a 200 dollar GameStop gift card, Lucy got VIP tickets to a Taylor Swift concert, and Abby got a pair of brilliant gold and emerald earrings that matched the locket Sam gave her.

Mercedes' eyes widened at the extravagant gift.

"Hiram, Sean, you didn't have to – "

"Oh, Mercedes, it's nothing," Hiram said.

Sam thought it was a nice gesture and said:

"Thank you again, that was very generous of you."

Abby got up from the floor and hugged them.

"Thank you, Zaide, Thank you, Granddad," she said giving them each a kiss on the cheek. Matt and Lucy followed suit.

"Thank you," they said, hugging their grandfathers.

"Thank you," Rachel said, "I appreciate the gifts you brought for them."

"We have a few things for you too," Hiram said.

"Aba, I already have enough stuff."

"You can never have too much, Booba, and you're worth it," Sean said.

"Would you like some tea?" Sam asked Rachel, to break the tension.

"No, I'm fine."

"We'll get our own," Sean said sitting up and leaning over the coffee table, he poured a cup of tea, "Smells wonderful."

Sam sat next to Mercedes on the couch and Rosy crawled onto his lap.

"Da," she said. He kissed the top of her head.

"Hi sweetie."

And little Jake, who was not to be ignored, also found a spot on his father's lap, and kissed his cheek. Sam smiled at his children's affection, giving them both hugs and kisses, and he reached over and grabbed Mercedes' hand squeezing it and kissing it, staring at her for a long moment.

I love you.

I love you too.

Hiram spoke, breaking them out of the stolen moment:

"The tea is good. Nice way to relax after such a long drive."

"Where are you staying this time?" Sam asked.

"St. Paul's Hotel. It's a tad rustic for our taste, but they sell Golden Glory at the bar, and that's a plus," Hiram said, "Rachel dear, when is your next appointment?"

"It's tomorrow at 10."

"We'll drive you," he said, sipping his tea, "I want to talk to that doctor of yours. You know there's specialist I found out about and – "

"Not now, Aba, I like Dr. Jordan and Finn is taking me to my appointment."

"We're still coming," he said, unperturbed by her response. "I want to check out the facility again."

Sean picked up a muffin and bit into it.

"Very tasty," he said chewing, "Finn, we'll follow you in our car."

"You both can fit in mine," Finn said.

"True, but I need leg room," Hiram said.

Finn shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

A rather awkward silence followed after that. Mercedes said:

"What would you two like for dinner?"

"No need to worry about that," Hiram said, "We decided to cook for you. You've done so much for us."

"Ok, but let me know if you need help."

"We will."

The conversation was non-controversial after that, they chatted about the news and where they were traveling to next. Then somehow the topic of horror movies came up and Sean said he played a drunk teenager in an old 80s horror flick.

"Really Pop?" Rachel said, shifting in her chair and adjusting her quilt, "You never told me that."

"Rachel, I've told you that story a hundred times; you laughed every time you heard it."

"No, you haven't. I've never heard that story before."

"Yes, you have. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing has gotten into me," Rachel said, "Why can't you admit to being wrong?"

"Because I'm not wrong. You've heard this story since you were a little girl."

"You're making that up."

"Booba, why would I make that up?" Sean said.

"Tell me when you first told me that story."

Sean and Hiram looked at each other, bewildered expressions on their faces, and Sean said:

"It was on Halloween. You were 11 years old and you dressed up as a Susan B. Anthony, remember you wore that awful puffy black dress with the high collar and ugly glasses? Anyway, we were sorting through your candy to take out the stuff with the highest sugar content, and you asked me if I had ever been in a scary movie and I told you about the horror movie from the 80s, and every Halloween after that you asked for the same story, and we watched the movie. Sometimes I wore my movie costume and Aba and me would act it out. Now, do you remember?"

Rachel nodded.

"Yes, I remember," she said." But everyone could tell she was lying by the quiver in her voice.

"It was a long time ago," Hiram said, smoothing things over.

"I said I remember," Rachel said, "Just drop it."

"What was the name of the movie?" Matt said.

"It was called Slaughter High 85. I had a mullet and I wore stonewashed jeans. I got my head cut off with a chain saw."

"Granddad, we should watch it tonight," Matt said, picking up a muffin, "I want to see it."

Rachel shook her head.

"That's too violent."

Matt rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Mom, I've seen worse. And you saw it as a kid, Granddad said so."

"I said no."

"I'd rather watch something else. I don't want to see Granddad get his head get cut off." Abby said.

"What other movies were you in?" Sam said.

Sean snuggled up to Hiram, patting his chest.

"Hmmm, let's see. I was in The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. I was an extra."

"That old Dolly Parton movie?" Finn said.

"Yes, that's the one. I was sitting at a bar."

"Were you ever in anything G-rated?" Finn said.

"I've done some cartoon voiceover work."

"Why did you stop acting?" Lucy said, "It sounds like fun."

"Reality set in. I needed stability. I wasn't that talented anyway. Besides, I met your grandfather and my goals changed."

Hiram leaned over and kissed him.

"So did mine."

"I would've kept doing it," Matt said, biting into his muffin, "I like horror movies."

"Sometimes life has other plans," Sean said and glanced over at Finn, "You change course."

"Finn, I'm tired. Could you help me upstairs?" Rachel said.

"Sure, sweetie," he said and bent down and picked her up like she weighed nothing at all.

"Do you need any help?" Hiram asked.

"I can take care of my wife," Finn said over his shoulder as he walked away with Rachel in his arms.

"I only meant that – " Hiram tried to explain himself but Finn cut him off.

"I don't care what you meant. I know what I'm capable of even if you don't. I'm her husband. I can take care of her."

Rachel touched his cheek.

"Finn, honey, it's ok. You do a great job of caring for me; Aba meant no harm." She kept stroking his face and he calmed down; he kissed her forehead and walked out of the living room to take her upstairs to their bedroom.

Hiram looked at Sean.

"What was that about?"

Lucy got up from where she was sitting in front of the fireplace and sat next to Hiram, holding his hand.

"Zaide, you hurt his feelings."

"How?"

"You made him feel like he can't take care of Mom."

"Bollocks. I only offered help."

"Yes, and things would be better if he had accepted our help all those months ago," Sean said, shaking his head, "I don't understand your father's ways."

"Maybe you two should have a private talk with Finn," Sam said, not wanting the conversation to go any further. "I think there's a lot you're missing."

"Such as?" Sean asked.

"Like I said, talk to Finn. Alone."

"It's getting late," Mercedes said, "And we need to give Rosy and Jake a bath. If you guys want to start dinner, then be our guest."

"Thank you, Mercedes," Hiram said, rising from the couch, "Come along, children, you can watch us at work in the kitchen. But first we must clean it."

"What are you making?" Abby said.

"Beef bourguignon."

"I'd rather have meatloaf and tater tots," Matt said.

Sean clucked his tongue.

"Matthew, I'm disappointed in your middle America taste in food."

Matt, Lucy, and Abby followed Hiram and Sean into the kitchen, leaving Mercedes and Sam alone in the living room with the twins.

"They mean well," Mercedes said, picking up Rosy.

Sam nodded and picked up Jake.

"True. But Finn needs to handle it."

"Things will work out."

"You think so?"

"Well, I'm hoping so."

***

After dinner, Hiram and Sean left to go back to their hotel, with promises to be there the following morning to go to Rachel's next chemo appointment. Sam and Mercedes spent time with Abby, Matt, and Lucy after the twins were put to bed for the night. They played Scrabble, watched movies, talked, and popped fresh popcorn. Finn was upstairs with Rachel. He stayed by her side; and his devotion to her touched Sam to no end.

While they watched Private Beach, a low-budget 80s flick in which Sean played a surfer who drowns in the ocean, Sam oiled Abby's scalp. Everyone waited in anticipation of Sean's infamous scene. About a half hour into the movie, a young, attractive, tanned buff teenager with bright blond hair, appeared on screen, surfing a huge wave, and he yelled out:

"Awesome!"

Matt paused the movie.

"Granddad looks like a kid."

"Well, he was a kid," Sam said, parting Abby's hair and applying coconut oil to her scalp.

"Yeah, I know, but it's so weird."

"Turn it back on," Lucy said, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table.

Synthesizer pop music played in the background as Sean rode the wave and then it turned menacing, and he was pulled underwater, losing his surfboard as he was tossed into the ocean; he screamed for his life and the scene faded to black.

"Wow, Granddad is so old now," Lucy said.

"He's not that old," Abby said.

"Compared to that, he is," Lucy said.

"Yeah, I guess."

They finished watching the movie and it was as corny as Sam thought it would be.

"I liked it," Mercedes said, stretching her arms, "It was cheesy but fun."

"Too bad Granddad had such a small part," Matt said, putting away the Scrabble game, "He did a good job of screaming his head off."

Mercedes laughed.

"Yeah, he did. Now it's past midnight, so off to bed you guys, and no sneaking iPads, phones, or any other devices, got it?"

"Yes, Aunt Mercedes," Matt and Lucy said and they each gave her and Sam a hug and kiss goodnight. Abby did the same.

When they were gone, Sam scooted over to Mercedes and pulled her into his arms.

"Looking good, Mrs. Hummel."

"Sam, it's late, no funny stuff… until we get upstairs."

Sam grinned and kissed her neck.

"Now you're talking."

MEMORIES

"Mercedes, wake up."

Mercedes opened her eyes and saw Rachel standing over her bed. She looked like an apparition with her winter pale skin and long ivory nightgown. The streetlight shining through the curtains gave her a strange, ethereal glow.

"Rachel, why are you… are you ok?" Mercedes said, stumbling over her words; she felt disoriented the way she always did when she was awakened in the middle of the night, then she panicked "Is it Rosy and Jake?"

"No, I can't find the blanket."

"Huh?"

"The blanket. It's pink and – " she paused, "I don't remember where it is."

"You mean your quilt?"

"No, I was knitting it."

Mercedes had no idea what Rachel was talking about, but something felt off. She sat up in bed and said:

"Could you hand me my robe? It's on that chair."

Rachel grabbed the robe and gave it to her.

"I was knitting it. It's pink."

Mercedes put on her robe and got out of bed. Sam slept in a tranquil slumber beside her; he could sleep through a hurricane, and she was glad their conversation didn't wake him. She took Rachel's hand and led her out of the room, and together they walked downstairs. Rachel had a firm hold on the staircase handrail, taking careful steps. When they got to the end of the stairs, Rachel stood in the hallway, looking confused.

"Which way is the living room?"

"Rachel?"

"I don't know which way the living room is. I want to go home."

Mercedes put her arm around her.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"I don't know. Everything is jumbled. Help me find the blanket."

"Ok. Let's check the basement."

"We're going back to our house, aren't we?" Rachel said, clinging to Mercedes' arm, "We won't be here much longer."

Mercedes had no answer for that. The plan was for them to stay until Rachel got better; but who knew how long that would be. When they moved in, they put a few unpacked boxes in the basement, and she figured Rachel's blanket was in one of them. Mercedes turned on the hall light.

"Come on," she said leading her down the hall to the basement door.

"I'm sorry for waking you up. Finn doesn't know these things."

"It's alright."

"I can't remember what day it is," Rachel said as they went down the stairs to the cold basement that smelled like varnish and sawdust. Sam kept his tools down there and he had a small workshop too.

Mercedes thought for a moment.

"It's Thursday."

"Everything is slipping from me."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Mercedes pointed to a wooden desk chair that Sam was refinishing and said:

"Sit here and rest."

"I want to look too."

She studied Rachel's face; she looked desperate and afraid; her large, dark eyes were glassy and somewhat unfocused. She wondered what was happening to her and why she was saying bizarre things.

"It's better if I look for it alone, ok?"

Rachel didn't protest and sat down. Mercedes found the cardboard boxes stacked in the corner beside the workbench. She opened the box on the top and inside was a bunch of extra winter clothes like sweaters and heavy socks, but at the bottom she saw two partially knitted blankets: one blue and the other pink. She got them out and handed them to Rachel.

"Here," she said, "There's two of them."

"For Matt and Lucy," Rachel said as if suddenly recalling a long-lost memory; she held the blankets to her heart, "Is there any yarn?"

"No, but we can buy some. It's late. Let's go back to bed."

"Thank you," Rachel said.

"You're welcome."

"Sometimes things get jumbled. I don't remember the way I used to."

"Did you tell Dr. Jordan?"

Rachel didn't answer her.

"I was knitting these back at our house. But sometimes this house feels like our house too… Sometimes I'll be reading and I'll see a word and I can't remember what it means, or Finn will ask me about something and I have to grapple with what he's talking about; yesterday, I couldn't remember Matt and Lucy's birthday, and it takes awhile for me to find the right words of what I'm trying to say. I used to be able to cook breakfast, pay bills, schedule appointments and pack lunches all at the same time, now I'm lucky if I can finish one thing without getting confused. I woke up and remembered knitting… I had to find these. I need something to hold onto; something I can't lose."

Mercedes put her arms around her, hugging her close.

"You have to talk to Dr. Jordan. This isn't normal."

"I have," Rachel said, as tears ran down her cheeks, "It's a side effect of chemotherapy; he called it post-treatment cognitive difficulty. The lay term is chemo brain. It's not known how long it will last. It could be long-term. Mine seems to be severe, he referred me to a neuropsychologist. I'm going tomorrow."

"Rachel, I'm so sorry," Mercedes said, rubbing her back.

"I'm scared. I've lost my hair, my appetite, my energy, my sex drive, but I can't lose my memories too. I can't lose birthdays and Christmases, and moments that defined my life. I started knitting these blankets when they were babies; I don't know why I didn't finish them. I can't have a life unfinished."

"It's not unfinished. Is that why you got mad at your father yesterday when he told us about that horror movie?"

"Yes. Pop loves his damn stories. And I used to know all of them because I loved them too. Now, I'm lucky if I know my own name. I took my anger out on him."

"Come on, let's go back to bed. You need your rest."

"Can I tell you a story?"

Mercedes sighed.

"Alright."

"A baby girl named Rachel was born and put up for adoption. Two wonderful men, her Aba and Pop raised her, and she had the best of everything: a private school education, equestrian lessons, a Broadway vocal coach, and vacations around the world. She pretended not to hear people say her fathers shouldn't have the legal right to raise her and call her Aba the n-word, or call her fathers names that hurt her heart when they thought they were whispering; she never told them she was scared someone would take her away from them; she put on a happy face, sang Don't Rain on My Parade and had green smoothies for breakfast in the sunroom. That was her life, nothing but love, luxury, and pain. She grew up, went to college and graduated with honors. She met a simple, loving man named Finn who came to fix the heater in her fathers' Tennessee cabin, who had no idea who Fanny Brice was, the only French cuisine he knew was French fries, and he made his living truck driving and being a jack-of-all trades. He took her to ball games; she took him to musicals. He tried to impress her by listening to music he couldn't stand and she ate corndogs in a stadium. And they fell in love. She was engaged to a wealthy man who could give her the life her fathers gave her, but after one kiss with Finn, she broke it off and her fathers hated what she did, yet they had to accept it. They got married, had twins named Matthew Peter and Lucille Leona, bought a house and lived their lives."

"Is that the end?" Mercedes asked.

"I don't want it to be. I want it to last for as long it can."

"You were engaged before?"

"Yes, to a man named Daniel Weston. His family owns the Weston Hotel chain."

"Wow."

"Impressed?"

"Very much."

Rachel smiled.

"He had it all. Handsome, smart, rich. Aba and Pop adored him. But I never really loved him, though I tried."

"What happened to him?"

"Remember my cousin Nia from Aba's side of the family? The one I said you reminded me of?"

"Yes."

"They got married and they live in Liverpool."

"Come on, let's go to bed," Mercedes said, standing up.

"Mercedes?"

"Yes?"

"Could you remember my story?"

Mercedes sat back down and held her hand.

"Oh, Rachel I – "

"It's difficult for me to write it down, but I'm trying. I just want someone to remember. To tell Matt and Lucy."

"Ok."

"They love you and Sam very much."

"I'm sure you'll be able to tell them yourself… but why not tell Finn?"

"I tell him other things. This isn't something he could grasp."

"I think I understand."

Rachel hugged Mercedes.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Rachel."

With her blankets tucked under her arm, they went upstairs and got back into bed.

BROKEN AND BRAVE

When Rachel came back from her medical appointments, she was so weak and fragile that Finn took her upstairs to their bedroom to rest. Mercedes watched as he carried her upstairs, kissing her cheeks and forehead, murmuring softly to her, and she thought of their story, the one she had to remember for Matt and Lucy. She sighed and continued folding laundry; the stacks of folded clothes were piled high on the love seat, smelling of fragrant fabric softener. Sam, Matt, Lucy, and Abby were out running errands. Rosy and Jake were taking a nap in their room. Mercedes lifted a big yellow t-shirt that belonged to Finn from the wicker laundry basket and began folding it, she hummed to herself and was getting lost in the song and her own thoughts when Hiram and Sean came into the living room holding large cups of Starbucks coffee.

"Hello Mercedes," Sean said, taking a sip of coffee, "Need any help?"

"Actually, I do. Could you go downstairs and get the load of clothes out of the dryer? It buzzed a few minutes ago."

He smiled at her.

"Sure thing. Would you like me to start a load too?"

"Yes, that would be great."

"No problem."

He went downstairs. Hiram sat on the couch and covered his face with his hands. Mercedes stopped folding clothes and looked at him:

"Are you ok?"

"Just exhausted that's all. It's awful seeing her suffer."

"I can't imagine what you're going through," Mercedes said, "But in the time I've known Rachel, I see that she has strength in her and doesn't give up easily."

"She's resilient and strong willed… the first time I held her, I… I just thought she was the most wonderful thing in the world, tiny little baby… great, big eyes, and she had a thatch of thick brown hair, and when she cried… the whole neighborhood heard it; I thought they would kick us out of our London flat. Sean and I - " he stopped speaking as tears filled his eyes, "well, our world started and ended with her the minute she had our name."

Just then Sean walked into the living room carrying a basket full of towels, he set them on the floor near Mercedes, glancing over at Hiram, he said:

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

Hiram opened his mouth to speak but only made a strange noise, between moaning and crying and tears ran down his cheeks. Sean rushed over to him and wrapped his arms around him.

"Shhh, we'll get through this."

Hiram clung to his husband as he cried.

"All I want to do is save her," Hiram said through his tears, "If the doctor said he could take the cancer in her and put it in me so that she would live, I would do it. Each day there's less of her. I can't bear to think of the day when there's nothing left."

Sean held him tight.

"We've been through a lot. We can deal with this. I'm terrified of losing her too, but I'm keeping the faith. We fought to be married; we fought to adopt her; we fought to be a family; we've taken some serious blows and we're still here. We raised a gorgeous, intelligent woman who's an awesome wife and mother. I'm not giving up, baby, we can't give up. Booba needs us right now, ok? She needs her Aba and Pop to be strong for her."

"I feel powerless," Hiram said, "Yes, we've fought obstacles before, but this isn't a person or institution, something I can grasp; it's a disease killing our daughter. I don't know how to fight something I can't really grasp. It's like we're fighting dark forces for her soul."

"So cancer is Darth Vader."

Hiram looked at him and laughed through his tears and kissed his cheek.

"Only you would make a Stars Wars joke in the middle of a crisis.

"I'm scared shitless. It's what I do."

"I know."

"We have to be brave."

Hiram laid his head on Sean's shoulder.

"I am brave, love, right now, I'm broken."

"No, you're hurting and so am I. Neither of us is broken, we take whatever comes, no matter what. I'm beside you, baby, this is God awful for me too, but Rachel needs us and we're going to be there for her."

Hiram nodded and raised his head, pressing his lips against Sean's. They whispered to each other and Mercedes' heart broke as she watched them consoling each other. She felt like she was intruding on a private moment, so she decided to leave them alone and check on Rosy and Jake; they didn't even notice her walking out of the room.

When she entered the twins' room and looked in their cribs, each child was fast asleep. She caressed their fat, little cheeks, and though her heart felt heavy, she took solace in her beautiful children, full of life and wonder, keeping her and Sam so busy that they took a breath each time a quiet moment crept up on them. She looked out the window and saw Sam drive up in their SUV.

After he parked the car, he and the kids unloaded the trunk and carried all their shopping bags inside. Matt, Lucy, and Abby were laughing and talking to each other while Sam joined in on the conversation too. She loved hearing their laughter; those kids needed it now more than ever. She sat down in the glider, taking a few minutes for herself, she closed her eyes and fell asleep; she woke up when a pair of familiar plump lips pressed against hers.

"Schäztchen," Sam whispered.

She opened her eyes.

"Hey, baby. I dozed off."

Sam kissed her again.

"Rosy and Jake will be up soon."

"Yeah. Did you get the Drano?"

"I got it. Matt is pouring it down the kitchen sink right now."

"Thank you."

"Are Hiram and Sean ok? They barely said anything when we came inside, and then went into the den."

"They're having a hard time of it."

"I figured as much."

"Where else did you go?"

"We stopped by Michael's and got the pink and blue yarn for Rachel; and I have a little something for you."

Mercedes stroked his cheek that was rough with blond stubble.

"And what would that be?"

He picked up a small brown bag sitting on the floor next to her feet and handed it to her. "Here," he said. Mercedes opened the bag and inside was a bottle of Kiehl's Lavender Foaming-Relaxing Bath with Sea Salts and Aloe. It was her favorite bubble bath. She kissed him. "It was out of stock online. How did you find it?" "A specialty perfume shop in North Star had it." "You went all the way to North Star?" "It's not that far. Besides the kids needed to get out of the house for awhile." "Thank you, sweetheart." Sam held her face in his hands. "Now tonight, we're going to light candles, close the door, and take a long, hot bath together." "Oh, is that what we're doing?" Mercedes said, raising her eyebrows. "Yes, that's what we're doing, Mrs. Hummel." "Very well, Mr. Hummel, I look forward to it."

"And you should. You get to spend a hot evening with your hot husband."

Mercedes laughed and kissed him again.

"You're too much."

"Yet you love me anyway."

They kissed some more until they heard giggling and they looked over and saw Rosy and Jake standing up in their cribs, laughing and smiling at them.

"Ma!" Rosy said, clapping her hands.

"Da!" Jake said, holding up his arms to be lifted out of the crib.

Sam helped Mercedes get up from the glider, kissing her once more and giving her ample behind a quick, yet possessive squeeze, before tending to their babies.

***

Sam and Mercedes set the dining room table. The savory aroma of chicken, parsley, white wine, heavy cream and shallots wafted through the air, as they placed the blue ceramic plates on the long cherry wood table. Mercedes wore a royal blue sundress that hugged her wide, curvaceous hips; the hips he loved to glide his hands over when they danced together to a song only they could hear, or grip when they made love; or hold when he was feeling some kind of way: romantic, crazy, loving, whatever the emotion, he would just reach out and hold onto to those magnificent hips, pull her close, and block out the world.

Her little feet were bare except for the silver chain ankle bracelet she wore; her toenails were painted candy apple red, reminding him of carnivals and Ferris wheels, he thought about the foot massage he gave her the other day during their private time, and how she laughed when he tickled the soles of her satin soft feet, making her laugh; he loved that she had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him, loved that her hands and feet were so small and delicate.

Sam admired her as she moved about the table, making sure each seat had the right amount of silverware, completely oblivious to him staring at her. The sun was setting, and the fading golden light filled the room in shades of warm yellow, and with Mercedes standing in that light, her rich, brown skin glowed. When they finished setting the table, Sam reached for her, and held her close, her heart beat against his, she was smooth and soft and sweet, and he just had to hold his baby for a while, claim her as his, and she understood, of course she understood because that's how she was, feeling everything he did, knowing his heart without words, she held on tight as he hugged her, and he reveled in the warmth of her embrace and the energy of her spirit, and what a spirit she had, shining brighter than the sun, he could see her light in the darkest places. He kissed her neck, and then pulled back a little to see her face, and he kissed her forehead, cheeks, nose, and then settled on her wonderfully sexy lips.

Sam heard Hiram singing in the kitchen; his deep alto voice drifted into the dining room, the song was familiar, like a long forgotten tune you heard on the radio late at night, and you turned it up and remember when you heard it the first time, what you were doing, how you were feeling… it was like he was singing for them. The first time he saw Mercedes; she had cried in her living room but later she laughed in his kitchen; Hiram's song made him relive that day when he made the silent pledge to keep her laughing despite the tears; keep her smiling for as long as he could. He held on to his blue angel a few moments longer, gave her one more kiss, and then they returned to the kitchen, the stolen moment was brief but they felt it none the less.

When he saw them, Hiram stopped singing and smiled, before he resumed stirring the Chicken Florentine on the stove. A loaf of garlic bread baked in the oven and added to the other delicious aromas. The kids sat around the kitchen table, each chopping vegetables for the salad, with Sean instructing them how to properly handle the knives to prevent any injuries. He teased them about their cutting techniques; and they laughed at his jokes; it was clear that they were enjoying the time they spent with their Granddad and Zaide. When Sean saw Sam and Mercedes, he said:

"You look way too happy, to have just set the table."

"Honey, leave them alone," Hiram said, "But since you said it, I'll have to agree with you."

Mercedes blushed. Sam squeezed her hand.

"Do you need any more help?"

"No, we got it covered. Dinner will be ready in 30 minutes," Sean said, giving them a "I know what you're up to" look and raised his eyebrows, "Avoiding the topic won't make it go away."

Before Sam could say anything else, Finn strolled into the kitchen, giving everyone a tired smile, his eyes were bloodshot.

"Dinner smells great," he said.

"It's Chicken Florentine, Hiram said over his shoulder, "how's Booba?"

"She drank some water and ate a few crackers," Finn said, leaning against the wall, "And now she's sleeping again."

"Today was really hard for her," Sean said opening a cupboard and taking out a box of croutons.

"Every day is hard for her," Finn said, "Well, I'm going for a run. Enjoy dinner."

Lucy got up from the table and grabbed his arm:

"Wait, you're not eating with us?"

"No, you go ahead. I'll eat later."

"You never eat with us any more."

"Sorry, Luce, I need to exercise."

"No you don't. You never exercised like this back home. Me and Matt never see you any more."

"We'll hang out later on, ok?"

"When?"

"I don't know. Like I said later."

"Promise?" she said, her grip on his arm growing tighter.

He looked down into her hazel eyes that were just like his own.

"Yes, I promise."

Lucy smiled and hugged him.

"We can play cards."

He patted her head.

"Sure, thing."

After he left, she sat back down and continued chopping up tomatoes, Matt glanced at her and said:

"He probably won't do it Lucy. So don't get mad if he doesn't."

"Why do you say stuff like that?"

"Because it's true. He's different now, you know that."

"I don't care."

"You need to stop acting like he should be the same. None of us are."

"I just want my father back. I feel like I'm losing Mom and Dad at the same time and I hate it." Lucy dropped her knife onto the cutting board and erupted into tears, "Why won't he talk to us?"

Abby and Matt put their arms around her, whispering to her as she cried, and she held onto them.

"I want to sleep in my old room and listen to the floorboards creak. I want Mom to yell at us for not using the right recycling bin for plastic and make us sing show tunes with her. I want Dad to make jokes and chase us around in the back yard and tell us how much he loves us. I want it all back. Everything. I don't want Mom to die."

Abby and Matt held her tight, no longer whispering, only listening to her breakdown. Sam, Mercedes, Sean and Hiram began to cry as well, and soon they descended on the children and held them all, kissing and hugging them, telling them that they were there for them. What else could they do?

Dinner was somber and quiet. Though it was an incredibly rich and sumptuous meal, it was barely eaten. Only Rosy and Jake enjoyed their tiny bites of food while managing to get more on their faces instead of in their mouths. After the dishes were loaded in the dishwasher and the kitchen cleaned up, Lucy went upstairs to her room, saying she wanted to be alone for a while. Matt and Abby gave her a hug before she bounded up the stairs, her long hair floating behind her.

Finn finally came back from his run, he gave a curt nod to everyone, and then went to take a shower. Abby and Matt played peekaboo with Rosy and Jake on the living room floor. Sam and Mercedes snuggled up on the loveseat drinking tea. The TV was on but nobody was watching it. Sean and Hiram folded the last load of clothes for the day, creating neat color coordinated stacks and even separating the clothes by who they belonged to. Sam figured that they needed the chore to keep them occupied.

"How long do you guys plan to be in town?" Sam asked them, while rubbing Mercedes' bare shoulder; her skin was soft and smelled sweet like vanilla.

"We're sticking around indefinitely," Sean said as he folded one of Rosy's little pink tank tops, "We can work from anywhere in the world. In fact, we're thinking of getting a short term lease apartment in town."

"It's for the best," Hiram said, "We can't leave again. Not with how things are."

"We want you to stay, Zaide," Matt said, "It's nice when you're around."

"You're just saying that to get more gifts," Hiram said, smirking at him, but they both knew he was teasing, "We love you all very much and I'm glad our presence is appreciated."

"At least by most of you," Sean said, and he and Hiram exchanged quick glances.

"Finn appreciates you too," Sam said, "Have you had a talk with him?"

"We tried but he shut down," Hiram said.

"Oh."

"We'll try again soon," Sean said, picking up a pair of red running shorts and folding them carefully, "Say, why don't we all go for a walk? Fresh air would do us some good."

"Ok," Mercedes said, "Let me get the stroller."

After Sam and Mercedes got Rosy and Jake situated in the double stroller, they ventured out into the warm summer evening. Hiram and Sean walked beside them holding hands while Abby and Matt walked slightly ahead. Matt's dark hair was getting longer each day, almost reaching the middle of his back, much to Rachel's consternation, but he refused to get it cut. Abby had a lovely full Afro that shined under the streetlight; the two cousins chatted together, walking closely side by side. Sam noticed that the three cousins had formed a very tight bond in the time that they lived there. They walked around the block, and every once in a while, Sam leaned down and kissed his wife, enjoying the feel of her pillowy lips pressed against his own. The stars twinkled above them; the air smelled like wild honeysuckle and fresh cut grass, and another stolen moment was treasured, despite the hell that surrounded them.

They decided to walk one more time around the block and then everyone went inside where they found Finn sitting in the living room eating a big plate of Chicken Florentine and garlic bread and sorting through a stack of mail, Matt went to his father, leaned over the couch, and put his arms around him.

"We went for a walk," he said.

"Nice night for it," Finn said.

"Too bad you couldn't join us," Hiram said as he and Sean sat beside him on the couch.

"Maybe next time," Finn said and waved a glittering gold envelope at Sam and Mercedes.

"Hey, this is for you."

While Sam got Jake and Rosy out of the stroller, Mercedes walked over to Finn and took the envelope. She looked at it and said to Sam:

"It's from Ryder and Unique."

Sam carried the twins to the love seat and sat down.

"What is it?"

Mercedes opened the envelope and took out a gold card with a pumpkin carriage decorated with sparkling diamond rhinestones on the front; the card smelled like Chanel No. 5 perfume; Sam caught a whiff of the scent when Mercedes sat next to him; she turned the card over and smiled:

"It's a wedding invitation."

They looked at it together. On the other side, the top portion of the card had king and queen crowns made of gold and diamond rhinestones. In gold cursive script written on antique ivory parchment paper, reminiscent of fairytale scrolls, the card announced the upcoming nuptials:

Because you have shared in our lives

and supported our love, we

Unique Amber Adams

and

Ryder Hunter Fabray

request the pleasure of your company

at our marriage

Saturday, the eighteenth of June

two thousand seventeen

at half past two in the afternoon

Searles Castle

21 Searles Road

Windham, New Hampshire 03087

Reception immediately to follow

A gold RSVP card decorated with diamond rhinestones and a gold ink drawing of a medieval castle was also enclosed.

"I'm so happy for them," Mercedes said, gazing at the invitation, "They've been through so much, you know?"

Sam nodded.

"I know. And I didn't miss that line about supporting their love. We should definitely go."

"It's awfully fancy," Matt said, peering over Sam's shoulder; he stood behind the loveseat reading the invitation; "What's with all of the sparkly stuff?"

"Unique loves to sparkle," Mercedes said, "It makes her happy."

"Oh," he said.

"I think it's pretty," Abby said, leaning over the love seat as well, "It reminds me of Cinderella."

"That invitation is the epitome of diva. She sounds like a lot of fun," Hiram said as he put his arm around Sean, giving him a chaste kiss on the forehead.

"She is definitely a diva and the life of the party," Mercedes said.

The card fascinated Jake and Rosy; the shiny rhinestones enthralled them like moths to a flame, and their pudgy little hands tried desperately to grab it from Mercedes, and when this proved to be futile, they began to whine and cry.

"Sounds like the Sandman is coming to get you," Sam said.

Jake shook his head.

"No."

Rosy followed suit.

"No."

"Yes, the Sandman is coming to get my babies. He hears you."

"No sleep," Jake said, and he and Rosy cried. Sam gathered them in his arms.

"Now, crying won't help, the Sandman is coming and that's that."

"Come on, let's go upstairs," Mercedes said putting the card on the coffee table.

"Mr. Sandman bring me a dream, bung, bung, bung," Sam sang over the twins' crying protest of bedtime. For each bung he sang, he blew raspberries on their necks, and despite their crankiness and struggles to get off of his lap, they laughed at his antics.

Mercedes sang the next line as she took Rosy from his arms.

"Make him the cutest that I've ever seen, bung, bung, bung"

"Give him two lips like roses and clover, bung, bung, bung," Sam sang as he rose from the couch and then together he and Mercedes sang:

"Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over."

Jake and Rosy listened to their parents singing instead of trying to escape from their arms and the fate of going upstairs to their cribs. When they stopped, Rosy said:

"More."

Sam and Mercedes looked at each other and laughed and sang the next verse together, while carrying Jake and Rosy upstairs:

"Sandman, I'm so alone

Don't have nobody to call my own

Please turn on your magic beam

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream."

SAY A PRAYER

After the twins were tucked away in their cribs, and covered with their multi-colored patchwork quilts, Sam and Mercedes kissed their foreheads, and Sam said a prayer:

"Lord, we praise and thank you for Rosy, Jake, and Abby, we are so grateful that they are in our lives. Thank you for blessing us with these miracles; everyday as they grow and learn, from taking their first step, to saying their first word, we are filled with joy. Thank you for giving Abby her voice, heart and wisdom, we watch everyday as she grows into a wonderful young lady; we love and treasure our children so much; please watch over and protect them. Lord, please give Rachel, Finn, Matt, Lucy, Hiram and Sean your strength and love during this trying time; open their hearts so that they can heal. We love them so much. We want them to make it through this storm. Matt and Lucy are great kids, but they're lost without their father, help him find his way back to them, make them whole again. Amen."

"Amen," Mercedes whispered and hugged him. "That was beautiful, Sam."

LAVENDER INTERLUDE

When they finally made it to their bedroom, Mercedes went to the bathroom and Sam changed into his pajamas. It was late and he was exhausted. He pulled back the covers, got into bed, and waited for Mercedes to return, his eyes were closing, and after about fifteen minutes, he wondered what was taking her so long, and he heard her call out to him.

"Sam? Could you come here please?"

Yawning, he got out of bed, rubbing his eyes, he opened the bathroom door and the scent of lavender bubble bath wafted through the air; he found his beautiful wife in their large marble, custom made, sunk-in tub for two, completely submersed in a white, foamy cloud of bubbles, the tops of her big breasts, just peeking above the surface. Her hair was twisted in a bun and held together with a sparkling rhinestone rose hair comb. She looked at him, smiling.

"Hi baby," she said.

"I can't believe you still wanted to …"

"Our time, remember? No matter what. Unless you don't want to?"

Sam was undressed in ten seconds flat. His fatigue immediately evaporated and was replaced with desire. He got into the tub and pulled her into his arms.

"Come here, angel," he murmured, kissing her neck, while fondling her breasts, "I needed this."

"Hmmm, me too."

They didn't talk about cancer or Finn's disappearing acts every time Matt and Lucy tried to connect with him; they didn't talk about how Rachel couldn't remember the days of the week, or how Hiram and Sean cried on their couch asking why their precious Booba was dying. They held each other instead, whispering words of gratitude and praise for the other, Sam mentioned a song he heard on the radio that touched his soul, Mercedes talked about the pictures she took of the sunrise in their back yard.

And when the conversation died, it was replaced with kisses, hugs, and caresses, and then she was on his lap, facing him, straddling his thighs, he gripped her broad hips; she opened up and let him inside her; silent joy rippled through them as they made love, slow and sweet, gentle and tender; the water sloshing about, the golden candlelight illuminating their skin, and Mercedes' doe eyes shined. He held his angel tight as they joined together loving each other as one flesh, one mind. When they shuddered in each other's arms afterwards, gasping for breath, Sam rocked her in his arms, protecting her in the lavender bubble of "our time" surrounded by the four walls; the door locked and closed.

I've got you.

She nodded and held on.

And I have you.

SOMETHING TO CELEBRATE

One month later

"Are you ready for this Abby?" Sam asked her, holding her hand.

She looked up at him, nodded and smiled.

"Yes."

His daughter looked so pretty in her emerald green dress; her hair was French braided with satin green ribbons intertwined with the braids. Her emerald locket hung around her neck and she wore the emerald earrings that Hiram and Sean gave her. He fixed her hair that morning, an everyday ritual that was still going strong.

Mercedes squeezed Sam's hand.

"Come on, sweetheart, we don't want to be late."

Sam kissed her cheek.

"Don't worry. I would never be late for this."

They climbed the gray stone steps of the county courthouse holding hands, the early morning breeze blowing against their faces. Today was the final hearing for his adoption of Abby; they had filed a petition for adoption six months ago, gathered all of the legal documents, including birth certificates and Shane's death certificate and attended a preliminary hearing. Shannon, who they hired as their attorney, was instrumental in guiding them through the process: from preparing the petition, getting the name change certificate that would hyphenate Abby's last name, to attending the hearing and working with the court. 

After therapy sessions with Santana and discussing this as a family, they felt confident with their decision and Abby told them she wanted Sam to adopt her. They were thankful that since this was a stepparent adoption that the home-study requirement was waived, which would have made the process longer. Sam was in his best black suit and wore a green tie; and Mercedes wore a dark green silk dress that accentuated her curvy figure. Shannon was waiting for them inside near the entrance; she gave them each a hug, and commented on how nice they looked.

"Well, this is our Sunday best," Sam said with great pride, "We wanted to look good for the judge."

Shannon smoothed the skirt of her navy blue and green pinstriped suit and smiled, emerald earrings sparkled on her ears.

"I can see that. Hopefully this won't take long."

They walked down the hall and went into a large courtroom that only had a few people sitting in the gallery. They sat down in the gallery and waited to be called. The dark reddish brown blood wood walls and floor shined under the white fluorescent lights. The judge was speaking with the bailiff, their voices low. Sam never let go of their hands as they sat together on the hard bench. When they were finally called, Sam kissed Abby's and Mercedes' hands and they stood up with Shannon and approached the judge's bench. The judge was an older man who looked to be in is sixties with white hair, thin nose, and glasses. His soft blue eyes were kind and he smiled when he saw them.

"We're meeting in my chambers," he said.

So they went into the judge's chambers and stood before him and he swore them in and sat behind his big oak wood desk while they sat in the empty red leather chairs positioned in front of it.

Shannon turned to Sam, Mercedes and Abby and asked them to introduce themselves to the judge and they did, and then she asked Sam and Mercedes to give a brief testimony as to why the adoption should happen. Sam spoke first.

"I love Abby. She's a wonderful girl and we have a great relationship; I want her to have all of the legal benefits of my adopting her. I want to raise her and give her everything she needs both emotionally and financially. I also love her mother very much and together we will provide, a solid, loving home for Abby. We don't want to only say that she's my daughter; we want it to be official in the eyes of the law. I'm committed to my wife and family for life."

Mercedes went next.

"Sam is a terrific father and husband. I've been so blessed to be his wife and mother of his children. He's been nothing but kind, loving, caring and a solid provider for our family. Abby adores and loves him. He's dedicated to being the best father he can be to her and he's proven time and again that he's committed to our family. We want nothing more than to have him become her father legally."

"Thank you for those testimonies," Shannon said, "And Sam you do understand that if your marriage should end that you and Mercedes would be equally responsible for Abby should the adoption become approved and finalized today."

"I don't plan on our marriage ending, but yes I fully understand that I would be responsible for Abby and I accept that lifetime commitment," Sam said.

The judge looked at Abby.

"Abby, do you think this adoption should proceed?"

"Yes."

"Could you tell me why?"

Abby nodded.

"Because I love Sam and I want him to be my father. He loves me just as much as my Daddy did when he was alive. Sam looks out for me, he listens to me, he takes cares of me. When I couldn't talk, he loved me anyway. He promised to be a good father to me in front of everybody when he and my mother got married. That's why I want him to adopt me."

"Thank you, Abby."

"You're welcome."

Shannon asked Sam and Mercedes to confirm for the judge that they intended to provide a stable, loving, and secure home for Abby, and after this final confirmation, the judge said:

"All of your papers are in order and I have no objection to this adoption taking place. I hereby declare that this adoption is finalized and approved," he said smiling at all of them, and he turned to Abby, and handed her the gavel.

"Would you like to bang the gavel to close the case?"

Abby laughed and took his gavel and banged it against the desk. The judge signed the decree of adoption and it was official, Sam became Abby's father. He picked her up and twirled her around the room, before putting her down and hugging her tight, kissing her cheeks, and telling her how much he loved her.

As they walked out of the courthouse, Shannon told them that she arranged for three copies of the decree to be made. She would get a copy and two copies would go to Sam and Mercedes.

"Thank you for everything you've done," Mercedes said to Shannon as she gave her a hug, "You're an excellent attorney and an even better friend."

"I'm glad this all worked out," Shannon said, "You've been through so much."

Sam and Abby gave her a hug too and thanked her for helping them. When they got to the bottom of the stone steps, Shannon said:

"Did you two need me to bring – "

But Sam cleared his throat and furiously shook his head no and Abby stood there confused.

"Bring what?"

"Oh, nothing Sugarplum," Sam said, "Come on, we better get on home," he said guiding her toward the parking lot.

Shannon whispered to Mercedes:

"Sorry, I thought she knew."

"Don't worry about it. See you soon."

When they got home, and opened the front door, Abby was shocked to see all of their family and friends gathered in the living room and they yelled out:

"Surprise!"

The living room was decorated with green streamers and balloons and a banner that said: "Congratulations, Abigail Amelia Tinsley-Hummel!" hung from the ceiling. Everyone rushed over to her giving her hugs. Burt and Carole who held Rosy and Jake, Blaine and Kurt, Matt and Lucy, Mike and Tina, LaTonya and Cooper, Hiram and Sean, Stevie, Stacey, Finn, Shannon; it almost overwhelmed her how much love she received. And what was even more surprising was that they all wore different shades of green. It brought tears to her eyes but they were good tears so she let them flow.

Rosy and Jake wanted their big sister to hold them and they reached for her as Burt and Carol gave her a hug, so she sat down and they got in her lap, hugging her.

"Abby," they said, smiling up at her, touching her face. Rosy wore a green sundress with a sunflower on the skirt and Jake wore a green shirt and little khaki pants.

She kissed their cheeks.

"Hi there," she said.

Everyone was talking at once and when the hubbub died down, Sam made a speech.

"Abby, we wanted to celebrate today because we want to show you how much we love you and are happy about the adoption. Everyone in this room loves you and will be there for you whenever you need us."

"Here, here!" Burt said, clapping his hands.

Abby wiped her tears with the back of her hand and said;

"I'm so happy right now. Thank you everyone for giving me this party. I love all of you very much."

She saw a pile of presents stacked on the coffee table and her eyes grew wide.

"Are those for me?"

"Yes, Sugarplum, they're for you."

"But it's not even my birthday."

"But it's a new day for you. A new chapter in your life and we're celebrating that," Sam said, kissing her forehead, "You always do your best and well, you're precious to us Abby."

"Your father is right," Mercedes said, stroking her cheek and giving her a kiss, "Enjoy all of this; you deserve it."

Matt and Lucy came over to her and gave her a hug. Their once long hair was now cut extremely short because they had their hair made into a wig for their mother. Rachel, who was resting in the recliner on the opposite side of the room, and was hooked up to an oxygen tank, wore a beautiful wig of long hair in shades of light and dark brown, a mixture of Matt and Lucy's hair. Matt's hair was much darker than Lucy's but somehow it looked good combined with his sister's lighter shade of brown hair.

"You're our sister and we love you," Lucy said.

Abby returned their hugs and noticed that Rachel was smiling at her and she opened her arms. Abby handed Rosy and Jake to her parents and went to Rachel, hugging her.

"Abby, you look beautiful, I'm so happy for you," she whispered, her voice raspy, "I love you."

"I love you too."

"You've come a long way from the silent little girl I met on Christmas day; you've blossomed into a wonderful young lady."

Rachel's words came out slowly and Abby let her take her time to speak; she never rushed her Aunt Rachel or grew impatient with her; she understood how much she struggled.

"Thank you, Aunt Rachel."

Finn walked over and gave her a hug too and then asked Rachel if she wanted to go upstairs, but Rachel refused saying:

"I like sitting here. I'm fine."

Finn didn't question her further but respected her wishes. As the party got under way and people began eating the spread that was prepared which consisted of all of Abby's favorite foods: lasagna, vanilla cake, steamed broccoli, tossed salad, garlic bread, fruit salad, homemade strawberry ice cream, deviled eggs and spare ribs.

Abby made sure that she talked to everyone. She found Cooper and LaTonya in the dining room, enjoying their food. She gave them each a hug.

"Thank you for coming."

Cooper hugged her tight.

"Miss Abby we wouldn't miss this for the world, I can't tell you how proud I am of you and truly how much I love you."

"I love you too," she said as she sat beside him, "Your eyes are shining."

"Are they now?"

"Yes," she said and looked at LaTonya, "You make them shine."

"If this isn't your child from another life, I don't know who is," LaTonya said, laughing, "She's got some of you in her, Cooper, I don't know how, but she does."

"I'm not sure I believe in reincarnation," Cooper said as he took a bite of lasagna, "And Sam is her father, a very good one at that."

"Oh, Cooper," LaTonya said, and then smiled at Abby, "We would like you to be in our wedding."

"As a flower girl?"

"No, even better. We want everyone who is close to us to stand up with us as we take our vows. You're special to us and want to include you."

"Yes, I want to do it."

"Wonderful!"

"When will we get invitations?"

"We're working on that," LaTonya said, sipping her lemonade, "Work has picked up."

Abby held Cooper's hand.

"I want you to be careful, alright?"

"Abby I – "

"I know you can get hurt… just be safe."

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"I promise to be careful. Now enough worrying about me. Let's enjoy the party."

LaTonya asked her about the color green.

"Is it your favorite?"

Abby wasn't sure how to explain it so she said:

"It means something to me, Mommy and Sam.

"Ok."

After that, they talked about Sherlock Holmes, her new house designs, astronomy, and the birdhouse she and Sam put in her favorite tree in the back yard, it was even bigger than the one they built together back in Tennessee. After their conversation, Sam called her into the living room to unwrap her gifts. She received a new MacBook laptop from Burt and Carol, a basket filled with her favorite hair care and bath products from Lucy and a tool set from Matt.

Cooper and LaTonya got her a complete set of Sherlock Holmes books, a magnifying glass with a monogrammed gold handle and an inscription that read: May you always see clearly, Love Cooper and LaTonya, and a 500.00 dollar Visa gift card. Mercedes got her a telescope due to her recent interest in astronomy and a gorgeous jade green sleeveless ball gown made of tulle with a sweetheart neckline, full, poufy, floor length skirt, a crisscross lace-up back and decorated with tiny silver sequins and rhinestones on the bodice.

"Mommy, this is beautiful," she said holding up the dress for everyone to see, "But where will I wear it?" It was the fanciest dress she had ever owned.

"You'll see," Mercedes said.

Abby also received an assortment of clothes, gift cards, video games and jewelry from everyone else. And Sam's gift came last. He handed her a green envelope, she opened it and inside were two tickets to the Second Annual Daddy Daughter Ball at the Star Pride Science and Observatory Museum. The dance would take place in the museum ballroom and there would also be a star show at the planetarium on the upper floor, and the event was scheduled for that night.

Abby hugged him.

"I can't wait. I've never been to a dance before."

"I wanted your first dance to be with the man who will love you for the rest of your life," Sam said, "And I have something else for you too, he said, handing her a small rectangular blue box from Tiffany's.

She opened it and inside was a 14k gold charm bracelet with six charms dangling from it. The first charm was a solid gold heart with an inscription: Dear Abby, I didn't give you the gift of life. Life gave me the gift of you. Love, Sam. The second charm was a gold birdhouse, the third charm was a bright diamond snowflake, the fourth charm was a gold hammer with tiny emeralds on the handle, the fifth charm was a diamond cut rose gold comb, and the last charm was a gold skillet; this one made Abby chuckle because every Sunday morning she begged Sam to make his famous pancakes. But each charm meant something and she knew exactly why he had chosen them because they were linked to moments in their relationship.

"Thank you so much," Abby said, hugging him as tight as she could, "I love you."

"And I love you. Now tonight a limo is picking us up and taking us to the dance."

Abby smiled and clapped her hands, a Cinderella dress, a limo, a pretty bracelet, a ball room dance, and a star show in the planetarium; she couldn't have imagined all of the wonderful gifts bestowed upon her; she was so happy she could burst.

After the party was over and she said a million goodbyes, gave hugs, kisses, and said I love you to each and every guest, Abby went upstairs and began to get ready for the dance. Her mother drew her a bath in her bathroom and when she was finished bathing, she let her use her scented Estee Lauder Beautiful lotion. Mercedes also washed and deep conditioned Abby's hair using the Shea Moisture products that Lucy gave her as a gift.

As her mother combed through the tangles of her wet hair, and they chatted together, sometimes joking, it reminded her of when they lived in Lima and her Daddy was alive; maybe because whenever her mother would wash her hair, her father would watch and call her Chaka Khan, teasing her in his loving way. She could hear his booming laugh and voice.

My baby got a head full of pretty hair. Looking just like Chaka Khan. I think that's what I'll call you from now on.

Abby laughed. And her mother would only smile and say:

Be quiet and let me finish her hair in peace.

I ain't stopping you. Then he started singing Sweet Thing.

Abby started humming the tune and soon Mercedes was singing with her. And Abby felt her Daddy next to her and it didn't feel sad, only nice like getting a visit from an old friend. When they were finished singing the song, she knew her mother felt the same thing by the way she hugged her.

"I feel him too, Abby."

Abby nodded.

"I know."

Lucy painted her nails and the two laughed and talked and Abby felt so light and free. The only sadness that she carried was for Aunt Rachel, who was now sleeping and Uncle Finn was beside her on the bed, watching TV. Lucy told her that her mother told her to tell Abby to remember all the details so that they could hear all about it tomorrow.

"I'll remember everything," Abby said, "And we'll take lots of pictures."

Matt wandered into the room.

"Do you want me to paint your nails?" Lucy said holding up the bottle of red nail polish.

He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," he said plopping on the bed; he reminded Abby of an elf with his super short hair and delicate features. They didn't ask why he was there. The three of them were always near each other some kind of way; their closeness happened naturally over time. First it was just Abby and Lucy, but since they moved in, Matt somehow fit into the fold and they formed a unit. He laid on the bed and leaned his head against Abby's hip and rubbed his feet against Lucy, who tickled his bare soles and he laughed pulling them away. Matt was somewhat of a cuddle bug; he got it from Finn.

Mercedes came into the room with Rosy on her hip and said:

"How would you like your hair styled?"

Abby thought for a moment then said:

"A French twist."

"Good choice. After I finish feeding the babies, I'll come do your hair."

"Thank you, Mommy."

Mercedes smiled and left. After she was gone, Lucy said:

"When you're in the limo you should stick your head out of the roof. I saw them do that in a movie once."

"That sounds like fun."

"Isn't that against the law?" Matt said.

"How do you know?"

He shrugged.

"It sounds dangerous."

Lucy sighed.

"Matt you're a party pooper."

"No, I'm not Luce. I just don't want my sister to get arrested."

It warmed Abby's heart when he said "my sister" that was the first time he ever said it. Since her nails were now dry, she ruffled his hair.

"I'll be fine Matt."

"Have you picked out what movie you want us to see with Zaide and Granddad tonight? It's your turn to choose." Lucy said, getting up from the bed and setting the nail polish on Abby's dresser.

"Nah… I wish Dad would come with us. I wish Mom - " he stopped talking and stared down at the bed.

Lucy doesn't say anything. Abby takes them each by the hand and said:

"Remember, tomorrow night is the Taylor Swift concert."

"Oh yeah," Lucy said, brightening up a bit, "We should go to Sonic before the concert and get chili cheese dogs."

"And cherry limeade," Matt said, "And we can ask them to put in extra maraschino cherries."

"We've got VIP passes too," Abby said.

"I want her to sing Shake It Off twice," Lucy said.

"And Bad Blood," Matt said.

"Hey, Abby, Matt wants to marry Taylor Swift when he grows up," Lucy said.

Matt bopped Lucy with a pillow.

"I do not."

"You do too. You get all moon-eyed over her."

"I don't get moon-eyed Luce. I just think she's pretty."

"Ok, if you say so."

While they teased each other, Abby hopped off the bed and turned on her iPod, soon the room was filled with the sound of Taylor Swift singing Shake It Off, and the three of them started dancing and singing.

Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

They shook it off as they sang as loud as they could and jumped around the room dancing. Maybe they couldn't get through to their father just yet, maybe they would have to take each day as it comes, but Abby knew while they danced and sang together in her room, letting loose, waving their arms and legs around, and laughing harder than they had in a long time, that joy was felt in all of their hearts, and this bit of joy would see them through any darkness.

***

When Abby was finally ready, she stood in front of her full-length bedroom mirror and felt like she was in a dream because she almost didn't recognize her own reflection. Her hair was in an elegant French twist. The dress swished against her legs and looked like a green cloud. Mercedes indulged her and let her wear a trace of lip-gloss and two tiny dabs of blush, but anything more was entering beauty pageant territory and that was something she wanted to avoid. Her precious emerald locket hung around her neck and she wore the emerald earrings Hiram and Sean bought for her and her new Tiffany charm bracelet dangled from her small wrist.

"You're ten years old and you're going to look like a ten year old," Mercedes said, when Abby suggested more make-up.

Abby liked how she looked; she just wanted to use her face as a canvas and see what else they could come up with. Mercedes' eyes welled up with tears as she stood before the mirror with Abby, and she put her hands on her shoulders, gazing at her reflection.

"Mommy?" Abby said, looking at her with concern.

"Sorry, sweetie, I'm just overcome with… I don't know happiness and just everything. Look at you."

Abby hugged her mother.

"I have looked at me, and I like how I look."

Mercedes lifted her chin.

"Abigail Amelia."

"Yes?" Abby figured what her mother was about to say was serious because she never used her full name unless she meant business.

"I want you to always like how you look. Wait, forget like. I want you to love how you look. No matter what anyone says you are beautiful. Your black skin is beautiful, your kinky hair, your broad nose. All of it is beautiful. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"And any time you start to even think you are less than beautiful, you come to me and your father and we'll remind you every day, is that clear?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"There's no greater gift that me and your father can give to you than truly loving who you are. Knowing your worth, knowing you're priceless, precious, and rare. I know it's a personal life journey, but if we can give you the tools, you'll get there sooner. I love you, Abby."

"I love you too."

"Come on, your father is waiting downstairs, all decked out in his finest tuxedo. The limo will be here soon."

When they got to the stairs Abby looked down and saw Sam, Lucy and Matt standing in the entryway. They watched as she descended the stairs. Sam started singing and soon Matt and Lucy joined in:

Isn't she lovely

Isn't she wonderful

Isn't she precious

Abby couldn't stop grinning and when she got to the bottom of the stairs, they all hugged her and Sam said:

"My darling daughter, aren't you a beautiful girl."

"Thank you, Sam. You look nice too."

He bowed a little.

"Thank you, my dear."

"Here," Lucy said, handing her a green silk handkerchief, "Mom said to give this to you for the dance."

"It's so pretty," she said, feeling the smooth silk against her fingertips.

"She woke up about ten minutes ago and remembered she had something for you."

"I'm glad she's remembering," Abby said, somewhat wistful, "Tell her I said thank you."

"I will."

"You really do look pretty," Matt said.

Lucy nodded.

"Yeah, you really do."

They hugged once more and Mercedes took pictures of everyone. The limo arrived right on time and Abby and Sam left for their evening out.

THE BALL

The limousine was a black Lincoln MKT with plush black leather interior seating that resembled a J-shaped couch. A mahogany hardwood and lacquer bar console with a steel foot rail to rest your feet on was in front of the seats. Small dome lights that looked like the ones found on airplanes shined down from the ceiling and flaming red neon light fixtures were located in the bar console with fiber optic lighting. The bar was stocked with Abby's favorite drinks: apple juice, lemonade, and sprite. There was even a jar of maraschino cherries and she thought of Matt and smiled. There was also a DVD player, Bluetooth and LCD TV. Abby bounced on the seat and Sam turned on some music. The only thing missing was a place in the roof to stick their heads out of but since she didn't want to get arrested it was probably for the best.

"Would you like something to drink?" Sam asked.

"Yes, I want a sprite mixed with apple juice and two maraschino cherries."

Sam laughed.

"Ok, Sugarplum, coming right up."

He made the drink and handed it to her and she felt very grown-up like a special lady. Sam poured himself a glass of sprite sans the juice and cherries, and they clinked glasses, before each took a sip. The view from the windows was lovely as they passed by the historic buildings of downtown Star Pride and looked at the stars shining in the black velvet night sky.

"There's my favorite building," Abby said pointing to the sliver gray stone Star Pride Archives building with four gargoyles perched on each corner of the roof.

"Why is that your favorite?"

"It reminds me of a castle. The kids at school said that at midnight the gargoyles wake up and fly around."

"Maybe we'll see them fly tonight," Sam said, sipping his soda, humoring her.

"Maybe," Abby said, smiling at him.

They talked about nothing in particular and Abby forgot how much she missed spending alone time with Sam. Things changed a lot after the twins were born and even more when Finn and his family moved in. He still did her hair every morning and they talked when they could and he never neglected to give her a hug or good night kiss before she went to bed, or tell her how much he loved her, but this was different. Spending time together, with just her and Sam, without anyone else. It felt good.

When the limo pulled up to the Star Pride Science and Observatory Museum, and their chauffeur opened their door, and took her hand, helping her out of the car, she was surprised to see the long stretch red carpet leading up to the entrance. Other fathers and daughters dressed in formal attire were walking up the carpet to go inside. Sam looped his arm through hers.

"Come on, Sugarplum, we got a shindig to go to."

Abby laughed as they walked the red carpet. She saw a few girls from her class and waved at them, and while their fathers looked nice in their tuxes, she thought that Sam was the most handsome and strong father there and that she had the prettiest gown. After they checked in and their tickets were scanned, they went into the ballroom. The marble floors gleamed, the crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling sparkled.

A long table covered with a white lace tablecloth was pushed against the wall and filled with white china trays of sweets: flaky chocolate hazelnut croissants, long, chocolate covered éclairs filled with rich vanilla cream, pink, green and yellow opera cakes soaked in coffee flavored syrup and layered with coffee buttercream and chocolate ganache; and pink butter cream frosted vanilla bean cupcakes sprinkled with hot pink sugar crystals. There was also big glass bowls of punch and bottles of water with pink labels on them that said: Second Annual Daddy Daughter Ball 2016. The old 80s tune "Time of My Life" from Dirty Dancing was playing. Abby grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him out onto the dance floor, and together they danced to the tune and Sam even broke out his Patrick Swayze moves.

All of the satin, tulle, silk and taffeta dresses floated across the ballroom floor in a rainbow sea of dazzling colors and it was like a wonderful dream. Lace and sparkles. Spit shined patent leather shoes that clicked against the marble floor. Fathers in tuxes with slicked back hair, gazing down at their daughters with admiration and love. And the daughters were every size and shape, tall and slender, short and chubby, or somewhere in between, but it didn't matter because they were all beautiful, and they all danced in their own fairytale and Abby was overjoyed to be among them.

The DJ played a mixture of old and new songs and when the old Louis Armstrong song, "What a Wonderful World" began to play, Abby remembered how Sam taught her to keep her back straight and he twirled her around; and she saw shiny tears in his eyes. She liked this song, because it was indeed a wonderful world underneath the chandelier, gliding across the floor, her dress sweeping about like Belle in Beauty and the Beast.

After that, the DJ played a few Beyonce and Rhianna songs, and then she and Sam took a break and got some water and sat down in one of the gold tapestry chairs at the other end of the ballroom.

When Sam finished his water, he looked at his watch and said, "It's almost time for the first star show, let's head up stairs to the planetarium."

"Ok," she said and took his offered hand.

They took the elevator to the top floor. Other fathers and daughters were going up as well. The elevator had plush red carpet and shiny gold doors and walls that you could see your reflection in. Sam put a strong arm around her because it was a tad crowded, and his protective instinct kicked in; she felt so safe when he did that and she leaned against him. A mixture of sweet perfume and heavy cologne hung in the air. Abby laid her head on Sam's arm and then she felt someone tap her shoulder and when she looked behind her, she saw that it was Melanie, a transgender girl from swim class at the local community center.

"Hi Abby, you look so pretty," she said, her long blonde hair hung down her back in a straight, sleek, shiny curtain and her blue eyes were bright, reminding Abby of a swimming pool shimmering in the summer sun. Her dress was almost the same shade of blue as her eyes and tiny blue crystals were on the bodice and the puffy taffeta skirt as well.

"Hi Melanie, you look pretty too."

"Thanks, this is my father," she said, nodding toward an older man who looked more like her grandfather than father, he smiled down at Abby.

"Hello, dear, you're looking lovely this evening."

Sam turned around and shook Melanie's father's hand.

"Hi, I'm Sam Hummel, Abby's father."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Joseph Spencer."

"Like wise," Sam said and peered down at Melanie, "You look pretty as a picture."

Melanie blushed, biting her bottom lip.

"Thank you."

When the elevator chimed everyone got off and headed to the planetarium down the hall. Melanie and her father walked beside Abby and Sam.

"Are you having fun?" Melanie asked, her voice quiet and low.

"Yes. How about you?"

"I am. This is my first dance."

"Mine too!"

The two girls looked at each other and laughed. It felt like a Lucy moment and for a second she missed her sister; that's how they connected, just laughing at a joke that only the two of them understood. Melanie had always been nice to her in swim class, but they never got a chance to talk much. The only reason she knew that she was transgender was because she heard some other girls whispering about it. Some shunned her, but most were kind.

When they got to the planetarium they ended up sitting next to each other; the reclining theatre seats were deep burgundy and had soft cushions and were arranged in a semi- circle. The big raised dome ceiling was white and the lights were dim. Sam took pictures of everything and had Abby pose for a picture with Melanie. Both he and Abby had captured a lot of moments on their phones. While their fathers texted, Abby and Melanie chatted before the show began.

"What do you think other dances will be like?" Melanie asked.

"You mean ones with boys?"

"Yeah."

"Not like this. But they might be fun. I don't know."

"Where do you go to school?"

"Star Pride Academy. How about you?"

"I'm homeschooled."

"Do you like it?"

"It gets lonely sometimes."

"With all the folks at my house, I'm never lonely."

"You have a lot of brothers and sisters?"

"Yes I have a little brother and sister that are twins; they're only a year old and I have an older brother and sister; they're twelve, but they're really my cousins but they feel more like my brother and sister."

Melanie tilted her head.

"I think I understand."

"Anyway they live with us along with their Mom and Dad."

"Full house."

"Yeah."

"What about you?"

"I have an older brother away at college. He doesn't come home much. And I have a poodle that's blind in one eye. He barks at the wall."

"Oh."

Melanie opened up her sparkling blue purse and pulled out a packet of grape pop rocks.

"Want some?"

"I love this stuff."

"Yeah me too. The fizzing is cool."

Just as she poured a heap of purple rocks into Abby's eager hands, the lights went down and the show started. As the grape rocks fizzed on her tongue, filling her mouth with sweetness, Abby laid back in her seat, and stared up at the dome, feeling rather mellow and happy. The show was called the Cosmic Universe and it showed what stars actually were made of and how they came into existence; the space images were breathtaking, and Abby felt like she could climb right into to the cosmos above and float through the Milky Way and pluck away the stars with her fingers. Sam was mesmerized too, and he held her hand, squeezing it tight. When it was over, the announcer requested that they stay for a special bonus treat.

"I wonder what it is?" Abby whispered in Sam's ear.

"I don't know. I hope it's good."

"It probably will be. The first show was great."

"You smell like grape soda," Sam said, chuckling.

"Grape pop rocks."

"Oh, ok."

Suddenly the screen above was filled with stars, and music began to play, after a few notes, Abby realized it was the Star Wars theme. As the theme played the stars danced around in the black sky in time to the music; and it felt like you moved with the stars, though you were anchored to the seat. It was awesome. When it was over, everyone applauded and a few people whistled, the lights came on. Melanie touched her arm.

"We should hang out sometime," she said.

"Sure."

The two girls exchanged numbers and said good-bye. Sam looked at his watch.

"The limo will be here in fifteen minutes. It's time to go."

As they walked to the elevator Abby said:

"Can we stop by the refreshment table?"

"Are you still hungry? We can stop somewhere on the way home," Sam said, putting his arm around her.

"No, I want to take some treats home."

"Is that something Aunt Josephine taught you?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"It sounds like her, that's why."

"Good food shouldn't go to waste. And I brought Ziploc bags she said."

"Oh, God," Sam said laughing, "Alright, but be quick about it."

When they got to the ballroom, Sam waited by the exit, and Abby went to the refreshment table and grabbed as many treats as her purse could hold, and even took a few bottles of water. Aunt Josephine would've been proud:

Child, if you paid for it, it's yours.

Technically, Sam had paid for it, but she felt the rule applied anyway. She met him by the door and said:

"Ok, I'm done."

Sam smiled and handed her a pink velvet drawstring bag with Second Annual Daddy Daughter Ball written in raised satin gold calligraphy letters across the front.

"This is so cute!"

"It's a goody bag to take home. I don't know what's inside it. They were handing them out at the coat check."

He opened the door, ushering her outside, his hand planted on the small of her back.

"Come on, the limo just pulled up."

The chauffeur tipped his hat and opened the door for them and Abby got in first with Sam following behind her. She kicked off her shoes because they were brand new and pinched her toes a little; she figured she just needed to break them in. She leaned against Sam and yawned.

"Thank you, Sam. I had so much fun tonight."

"You're welcome. I love you, Sugarplum," he said kissing the top of her head, "Your mother, you, Rosy and Jake are my everything. Never forget that."

"I love you too, and I won't ever forget."

"If you do, I'll remind you."

Abby smiled and yawned again.

"I know you will."

They grew quiet. The limo hummed a long. Abby gazed out the window and when they passed by the Star Pride Archives building, she stared at the gargoyles.

Sam rubbed her shoulder.

"Seeing if they can fly?"

"What time is it?"

"About one minute after midnight."

"Well, they can't fly."

"No harm in believing they could."

Abby smiled and rested her head on Sam's shoulder, closing her eyes, the night trailed through her mind, ball gowns and chandeliers, dancing stars, and marble floors, pop rocks fizzing on her tongue, and Sam saying: "I'm Abby's father." That was the best part of all.

END NOTES: Thank you for reading and reviewing! The inscription on the Tiffany charm bracelet is found on jewelry given to adopted children.

[rohitcnaik]

I grew up on the gold mines in South Africa and knew from a young age that I wanted to follow a medically-related career. I applied to and was accepted to study Optometry at the former Rand Afrikaans University in South Africa. During the last year of studies, I worked on the Phelophepa -Train of Hope. This custom-built train (now 2) travels throughout rural South Africa to deliver top quality primary healthcare to disadvantaged communities. It was a wonderful experience to bring sight to so many people that otherwise do without. Those memories always remind me of why I love practicing optometry. For the following 10 years, I was approached by various stakeholders to open and run new practices predominantly in the outer lying regions of South Africa. As I have a special fondness for children, I trained in and ran a branch of the Wise Eye Reading Clinic: aimed at providing a means of measuring reading dysfunction with a visograph and devising a treatment plan for those children struggling with reading problem.  Thereafter, wanderlust won out and I cast my eyes to the Tropics. I moved to the Twin Islands of Trinidad and Tobago and spent a wonderful 8 years working, playing and scuba diving in this paradise.