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I heard my wife nervously giggle several times and a lot of o.k.'s.After hanging up the phone my wife told me to give her an hour an come to bed. I could hear her drawing a bath and going through her dresser and closet. I passed the hour in nervous anticipation but I also wondered it would be lame. When I entered our bedroom she had a single candle lit. She told me to undress and led me to the bed. The pillows were neatly stacked against the headboard so I was half lying half sitting up. As my eyes adjusted to the single candle light I could see she had on a robe and stockings. She straddled me sitting on my stomach. The stockings were the one for each leg type they felt a little scratchy on my legs. She had no panties on and the robe felt silky and nice. She was warm and smelled great from some type of bath lotion.I reached up to pull her robe open but she grabbed my hands. In the firmest voice I had ever heard her use she told me "keep you hands to your side or were going to stop, . I will never be able to forget all of the great times we’ve had together. I will try to write every day, okay. Please don’t be sad, it makes it harder for me to go.’ Kylie just held him closer, nodding her head. Suddenly the announcer called on the loudspeakers, ‘flight 451 to France now boarding at gate 15.’ The two of them stood there for a few minutes, and then Stephan gave Kylie a kiss on her cheek, and pulled away hesitatingly. Kylie, left standing there in tears, called to Stephan just before he stepped onto the platform. ‘Stephan!’ He turned around and looked at her, ‘I love you!’ tears formed, Stephan smiled and moved his hand to his lips. He blew a kiss to her and smiled. ‘Remember follow your dream!’ He called. Kylie waved one last time, nodded her head and watched Stephan disappear around the corridor to the plane. She walked over to the window to watch the plane take off. As it moved down the runway a single tear rolled down her cheek. She waved and hoped that Stephan.
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We’d dive for pennies and play Marco Polo, until one of our mothers came calling. At night I’d run about in the front lawn and play tag with the neighbors, and catch fireflies until my mother called me in, clucking at how dirty I’d gotten since morning, and sending me off to my bath. Afterwards my father would come into my bedroom and tuck me in with his big strong hands. He’d read me a story or two.. or three if I could convince him, with his deep voice cracking as he made it go high in imitation of the characters he read about. I’d always giggle madly until he’d finish, and then he’d brush my hair back and smooth the covers, kissing my forehead and telling me to sleep tight. No, I didn’t feel lucky that I had a big nice house, or that I was rich. I felt lucky because I was loved. The first real time that I remember anything being different was after I turned 5. That year was when the accident happened. I don’t remember much, the doctor’s say I probably won’t ever have those.

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