The weather is perfect for a pool party.
Its unusually warm for a late winter day.
Dylan's maternal Grandparents, my other two boys, Michael Jr. 7, Ricky 5, Dylan, 3 and Evelyn, our 6 month old daughter, their Mom, and some friends, are gathered in the pool.
I hop into the cool water with the boys, splashing and frolicking as boys and Dads do.
Jeanne holds Evelyn in the shallow end of the pool, gently splashing the refreshing water onto her soft skin.
"How to you like having a daughter?" asked Jeanne's Mom.
I leaned over and took the baby from her Mother, kissing the top of her blond head.
"It's what I've been praying for, for a long time. But she's so small. The boys seemed bigger at this age."
Jeann's Mom, Elaine, smiled, "She's a girl, Michael. Her Mom was that size at that age.
I've told Jeanne that already.
But if you are concerned, make an appointment with her doctor. Ease your mind about it."
"Honey, " I said to Jeanne, "do that will you, just to be sure?"
"O.K., Dad, whatever you say." she smiled and took Evelyn back.
Jeanne hugged Dylan and Evelyn, Evelyn giggles, Dylan grins.
I looked at Jeanne, "You know, you look pretty good in that bikini, Honey."
She did, too, toned and shapely, smooth and radiant, freckles sprinkled her tanned cheeks, the midday sun glinted in her hair.
"You look pretty good too, Dad. Like you've been working out a lot."
I press weights every other day, I say, half jokingly, "I have to work out, how else am I going to be able to keep my young wife happy?"
She smiles, "You don't have to work out for me. I'd be happy even if you weren't muscular."
I kissed her, her lips were soft, moist. "Yeah, right. You love me for my intellect."
Jeanne looked solemn for a moment, "I love you 'cause you take care of me."
Jeanne's Dad speaks up, running a hand through his thinning white hair.
"What's the difference, Mike, she loves you. Be thankful for that."
I smile slightly "You are correct Mr. McGowan. I am grateful."
.......................................................................................................................
It was the third night of Chanukah, so it was Dylan's turn to light the candles.
As I held his hand he used a candle to light the menorah while we recited the Shema.
Their mother was a quarter Jewish, and we casually observed Jewish Holy days.
An Israeli friend from work had given us the Menorah, and the boys seemed to enjoy the activities.
"Why do we celebrate Chanukah, Mikey?"
"It's when the Jews got the Temple back.
And they only had enough oil for one night, but the Menorah burned for eight days."
"Very good, Michael." I say and rub the back of his neck.
We spun the dreidel for a while and played some Israeli rock, including Dylan's favorite tune, a rock version of "la cha dodi".
Later Mikey and and I are playing tennis on the play station.
I'm McEnroe, he's Jimmy Connors.
He deftly maneuvers his man back and forth at the baseline as I prepare to serve.
I hit a smash.
It zooms past Connors, and Mikey calls out, "You cheated, Dad!"
"What?" I say, taken aback.
"Mom, Dad's cheating." Mikey yells.
Jeanne laughs, "Stop cheating, Dad."
"OK." I chuckle.
A few points later, as usual, Mikey wins the match.
I just can't beat him on the Play Station.
"Congratulations, Son, good match."
"I kicked your butt, Dad."
"In a game Son. In real life I could easily kick your butt."
Jeanne walked by with an armful of clothing, heading towards the washing machine.
"Don't threaten a small child, Dad." Jeanne says and playfully punches me in the arm.
We go into the kitchen, I make some spaghetti and the night winds down.
I look out towards the glassed in porch, and I see it's snowing, flakes dusting the grass outside.
A chill passes through me.
Like someone walking over my grave.
A feeling of foreboding.
I walked outside and lit a cigarette, the cold night air felt good, invigorating.
What is bothering you? I asked myself.
You have a wife, beautiful children, a job you love, with a future.
Something was about to happen, I answered myself.
What? I asked.
I don't know. I don't know. I replied.
