Page 107 - In Five Years

She looks at me. “Baby’s room,” she says. “What do you think?”
She stands back, putting her hands on her hips and surveying her work.
“I think you’re ahead of the curve for the first time in your life,” I say. “And
it’s freaking me out. Isn’t the nursery usually a month seven project?”

She laughs, her back to me. “It’s fun,” she says. “I haven’t really painted in a
long time.”

“I know.” I go to stand next to her and lob an arm over her shoulder. She
leans into me. The clouds are off-white and the sky a pale salmon color with
shades of baby blue and lavender. It’s a masterpiece.
“You really want this,” I say, but it’s not really to her. It’s to the wall. To

whatever beyond has brought forth this reality. For a moment, I don’t remember
the future I once saw. I am overcome by the one that is solidly, undeniably

present here.