Page 30 of Redemption

“Whoa, buddy!” Caleb laughs, kneeling to give Levi a hug. “Looks like you’re ready to win.”

Levi nods enthusiastically before running back to rejoin his friends.

Caleb turns to me, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “You know, Ruby, when I was a kid, I never got any of the good cupcakes. It means a lot to me that you make sure our kids do.”

I smile, heart swelling. “I know. That's why I do it. Plus, who can resist cupcakes?”

He laughs, and we stand there for a moment, watching as the teachers organize the races. It's these small moments that mean everything. Watching Caleb share this with Levi, something he never had, feels like we're breaking some invisible cycle, paving a path of happiness and presence for our kids.

Caleb stays longer than I expected, cheering Levi on during the races and chatting with the other parents. The sun is warm, the laughter infectious, and I can't help but feel grateful for this little slice of life we’ve carved out.

As the morning unfolds, the anticipation for the three-legged race builds. It's a classic field day event, always a crowd favorite, and this year, Levi insisted on teaming up with Caleb.

Caleb approaches Levi, who is hopping from one foot to the other with barely contained excitement. “You ready, partner?” he asks, ruffling Levi’s hair.

“Ready as I'm gonna be," Levi grins, and the sight tugs at my heart. They make their way to the starting line where pairs of parents and kids are gathering, some already practicing the awkward shuffle the race demands.

Caleb kneels down to Levi’s level, giving him a few tips. “Remember, it’s all about staying in sync. We'll count together, okay?” Levi nods earnestly, eyes bright and focused.

The other parents, who have become familiar faces over the years, mingle around, sharing casual banter and friendly jabs about who’s going to win. It feels like a community, and I realize it’s moments like these that cultivate a sense of belonging for us all.

The whistle blows, signaling the start. Caleb and Levi take off, their legs tied together, finding a rhythm after a few stumbling steps. The crowd cheers, parents urging on their little ones, laughter mingling with the light breeze.

“Go, Levi!” I shout, clapping along with the rest of the onlookers. Caleb’s deep voice chants alongside Levi’s, their feet moving in tandem.

For a fleeting moment, Levi is all concentration, determination etched on his face. Caleb beams down at him, pride evident as they inch closer to the finish line. It's clear Levi is giving it his all, small legs pumping, an occasional giggle escaping despite his focus.

Suddenly, another pair stumbles nearby, and both Caleb and Levi pause, offering a hand to steady them before resuming their race. It's a graceful, instinctive act that speaks volumes about Caleb's influence on Levi, and it fills me with pride.

As they cross the finish line amid a wave of cheers and applause, the joy on Levi's face is contagious. His victories, however small, are shared between us all, echoes of a supportive family and community lifting him up.

I catch Caleb’s eye, a shared look of pure happiness passing between us. It's more than just winning a race; it's about Levi's growth, his kindness, and the bond they’re deepening with every step.

Levi throws his arms around Caleb, nearly toppling them both, laughter bubbling up around us. Their bond is something I cherish deeply, a testament to the family life we’ve strived to build.

As the day moves forward, we gather for the picnic portion of the field day. The blanket is spread out under a big oak tree, and the kids dive into the array of snacks and cupcakes I've laid out. Bits of frosting soon cover tiny hands and mouths, their conversations a buzzing symphony of excitement and sugar.

Caleb sits beside me, stretching his legs with a contented sigh. "This never gets old," he says, watching Levi animatedly recount the details of the race to anyone who’ll listen.

"No, it doesn’t," I agree, leaning against him. "I'm just glad we're all here."

There's a pause as we soak in the atmosphere, the smallness of our world expanding in these moments filled with Levi’s laughter and the comfortable silence we share.

As the afternoon wanes, families begin to pack up, the field slowly emptying. Caleb has to return to his shift, but promises Levi they’ll have another race at home, just the two of them. The idea sends Levi bouncing off again, new energy sparking in him.

Before Caleb leaves, he wraps me in a hug, whispering, "Thank you for today. For making it special." I hug him back, thankful for his sincerity, for the foundation of love and support we continuously reinforce.

As I watch him walk away, I hold onto the familiar sight, a sense of fulfillment washing over me. These are the days that create lifelong memories, the kind I hope Levi will cherish and carry with him into adulthood.

When it’s time to head home, Levi, still buzzing from the day, helps me gather our things. “Will you make cupcakes for Molly and me forever?” he asks, curiosity mingling with longing in his voice.

"For as long as you want them," I promise, knowing each year brings change, but certain some traditions are worth keeping.

We leave the school grounds hand in hand, Levi recounting every race, every laugh, every little moment in detail. His happiness is infectious, and as I listen, I’m reminded why these days are so precious. They’re the building blocks of our life, pieced together with love, laughter, and a little bit of competitive spirit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CALEB

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