Speaker 1: There's a moment right before the house fills up, when
Speaker 1: everything goes still. The coffee's already brewed, the counters are
Speaker 1: wiped down, the cake pans are out lined up like
Speaker 1: soldiers waiting for orders. And I'm standing there in the
Speaker 1: middle of my kitchen just breathing because I know, I
Speaker 1: know what's coming. I know that in a few hours,
Speaker 1: every chair in this house is going to be filled,
Speaker 1: every voice is going to be layered over another voice.
Speaker 2: Every room is.
Speaker 1: Going to have its own little story happening inside of it.
Speaker 1: And somewhere in the middle of all that noise, all
Speaker 1: that beautiful, chaotic, messy noise, my son Gavin is going
Speaker 1: to turn nineteen nineteen. I set it out loud to
Speaker 1: myself that morning, just once, just to hear how it sounded,
Speaker 1: and I swear to you, I could still feel the
Speaker 1: weight of him as a baby in my arms. I
Speaker 1: could still hear that tiny laugh. I could still see
Speaker 1: those little shoes by the back door. Nineteen years gone
Speaker 1: in a blank, and here I was about to watch
Speaker 1: a room full of people I love walked through my
Speaker 1: front door to celebrate a young man who used to
Speaker 1: fit in the kirk of my arm. So I took
Speaker 1: that breath, I held it for just a second longer
Speaker 1: than I needed to, and I whispered something to myself
Speaker 1: that I say every time a day like this arrives,
Speaker 1: don't miss it, Maya. Don't you dare miss a single
Speaker 1: second of it. Because I've learned something over the years.
Speaker 1: The big days don't warn you before they become the memories.
Speaker 1: They just happen, and if you're busy, if you're distracted,
Speaker 1: if you're running from one thing to the next, they'll
Speaker 1: slip right past you and you'll wake up one day
Speaker 1: wishing you.
Speaker 2: Had stood still for just a little bit longer.
Speaker 1: So I stood still that morning, and I let the
Speaker 1: house wake up around me, one quiet minute at a time,
Speaker 1: because I knew as soon as that first knock came
Speaker 1: at the door, it was all going to start, and
Speaker 1: I wouldn't get that quiet back until the last car
Speaker 1: pulled out of the driveway, probably close to midnight, maybe later.
Speaker 1: And I was ready. I was so ready, but I
Speaker 1: wanted this minute first, just this one, just for me.
Speaker 1: Hey everyone, and welcome back to we are the Hansens.
Speaker 1: I'm Maya, and this is my favorite part of my week,
Speaker 1: the part where I get to sit down with you
Speaker 1: and tell a story from our life. Not a polished one,
Speaker 1: not a perfect one, a real one, the kind with
Speaker 1: laughter in the kitchen and kids running through the living room,
Speaker 1: and a husband who takes dinner way too seriously, and
Speaker 1: a house that somehow keeps getting fuller every year. Today's
Speaker 1: story is a special one because today I want to
Speaker 1: take you inside one of the biggest nights we've had
Speaker 1: in a long time, Gavin's nineteenth birthday.
Speaker 2: And I'm not going to lie to you.
Speaker 1: I almost didn't know how to put this one into words,
Speaker 1: because some nights don't feel like nights.
Speaker 2: They feel like.
Speaker 1: Markers, little flags you plant in the ground of your
Speaker 1: life that say, remember this, remember.
Speaker 2: All of it.
Speaker 1: So grab your coffee, settle in, and let me take
Speaker 1: you there. It started early. It always starts early in
Speaker 1: this house. I don't think I've had a quiet morning
Speaker 1: in two decades. But that's fine with me, because quiet
Speaker 1: was never really the dream. The dream was this a
Speaker 1: house that hums, a kitchen that smells like something good,
Speaker 1: kids coming in and out, and a life that feels
Speaker 1: full all the way to the edges. So when I
Speaker 1: walked into the kitchen, that morning, coffee in hand, slippers
Speaker 1: still on. I didn't rush. I just stood there for
Speaker 1: a minute. I looked at the light coming in through
Speaker 1: the window. I looked at the chairs, the ones that
Speaker 1: would be pulled away from the table later. I looked
Speaker 1: at the empty counter, and I thought, this is the
Speaker 1: last quiet moment this room is going to have for
Speaker 1: the next twelve hours. Better enjoy it. Jeremy was already up,
Speaker 1: of course. He was that man moves through the kitchen
Speaker 1: like he was born in one. He had ingredients lined up,
Speaker 1: cutting boards out, a big pot sitting on the stove,
Speaker 1: just waiting.
Speaker 2: Beef's strogn off tonight, he said.
Speaker 1: And the way he said it, you would have thought
Speaker 1: he was announcing a state dinner.
Speaker 2: But that's Jeremy.
Speaker 1: When he cooks for the family, it's not just cooking.
Speaker 1: It's a performance. It's love on a plate. It's the
Speaker 1: one way he's always known how to say, I've got you,
Speaker 1: all of you, I'll feed you, I'll take care of you,
Speaker 1: and I'll do it with everything I've got. I kissed
Speaker 1: him on the cheek and grabbed another cup of coffee.
Speaker 1: Big day, I said, Big day, he said back, And
Speaker 1: that was it. No big speech, no checklist, just two
Speaker 1: people who've done this dance a hundred times before getting
Speaker 1: ready to do it again. Because when you've raised a
Speaker 1: family this size, you learned something. You learn that the
Speaker 1: magic isn't in the planning, The magic is in the
Speaker 1: showing up. A little while later, Mattie came in, and
Speaker 1: just like that, I had my partner in crime for
Speaker 1: the day. You have to understand something about Maddie. That
Speaker 1: girl has been my shadow in the kitchen for far
Speaker 1: as long as I can remember. When she was little,
Speaker 1: she would drag her chair up to the counter just
Speaker 1: to see what I was doing. She'd stick her fingers
Speaker 1: in the batter, she'd wear more flour than she ever
Speaker 1: actually used, and I'd pretend to be annoyed, but the
Speaker 1: truth was, those are some of my favorite warnings now here.
Speaker 1: She was taller than me, smarter than me, some days,
Speaker 1: pulling down mixing bowls like she'd done it her whole life.
Speaker 1: Because she has cherry chocolate, she asked, and I smiled.
Speaker 1: Kerry chocolate, because that's the cake. That's Gavin's favorite cake,
Speaker 1: the one he's asked for every year since he was
Speaker 1: old enough to have an opinion. Some years it's been
Speaker 1: a little lopsided. Some years the frostings melted before we
Speaker 1: got the candles on. One year, and I'll never forget this,
Speaker 1: the dog got into it before the party even started.
Speaker 2: I remember that year so clearly.
Speaker 1: The whole family walked into the kitchen at the same
Speaker 1: time to find this dog standing on a chair he
Speaker 1: had pulled out himself, his nose covered in cherry filling,
Speaker 1: looking at us like we were the ones who had
Speaker 1: done something wrong. Gavin laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.
Speaker 1: He didn't even care about the cake. He just kept
Speaker 1: pointing at the dog. Maddie and I had to drive
Speaker 1: to the store and start over two hours before the party,
Speaker 1: and somehow that cake turned out to be one of
Speaker 1: the best we've ever made. That's kind of how this
Speaker 1: family works. The moments that are supposed to ruin something
Speaker 1: usually end up making it better. But every year, no
Speaker 1: matter what, it's always been carry chocolate cake.
Speaker 2: It's his.
Speaker 1: And something about that tradition, something about a kid picking
Speaker 1: the same cake year after year, it tells you something.
Speaker 1: It tells you they've found their anchor, They've found the
Speaker 1: thing that says this is mine, this is home, and
Speaker 1: Maddie and I werek side by side. She stirred the batter,
Speaker 1: she talked about something funny that happened at work. I laughed,
Speaker 1: and I looked at her for just a second too long,
Speaker 1: because I caught myself remembering. I remember her first day
Speaker 1: of kindergarten. I remember her tiny hand in mine. I
Speaker 1: remember the way she used to sing to herself when
Speaker 1: she thought no one was listening. And here she was, growing,
Speaker 1: standing in my kitchen, helping me make her brother's birthday cake.
Speaker 1: I didn't say anything out loud. I just smiled to
Speaker 1: myself and I kept listening, because there are some things
Speaker 1: you don't need to say. You just tuck them into
Speaker 1: your corner of your heart and keep them forever.
Speaker 2: The first knock at the.
Speaker 1: Door came around late afternoon, and my heart did this
Speaker 1: little thing. It does, you know, that feeling when someone
Speaker 1: you love is about to walk through the door. I
Speaker 1: wipe my hands on my apron and went to answer it.
Speaker 1: And there he was, Gavin, with Riley right next to him,
Speaker 1: and I just stood there for half a second, taking
Speaker 1: him in because listen, there's something about seeing your child
Speaker 1: with someone they love and HiT's different. It's not just
Speaker 1: that they're growing up. It's that they're becoming someone, someone
Speaker 1: outside of you, someone who chooses and is chosen. Riley
Speaker 1: had that smile, the one that says, I'm glad to
Speaker 1: be here, not just for the party, not just to
Speaker 1: be polite, but because she loves him, and I loved
Speaker 1: her a little more for it. Gavin walked in, and
Speaker 1: I worre to you. He looked older, not in the
Speaker 1: way I can fully explain, not because of anything he said,
Speaker 1: but in the way he carried himself, the way he
Speaker 1: said hello, the way he looked around the house like
Speaker 1: he was really seeing it, like he was noticing things
Speaker 1: he hadn't noticed before nineteen there it was written all
Speaker 1: over him.
Speaker 2: I hugged him.
Speaker 1: I held on a little longer than I probably needed to,
Speaker 1: and he let me. That's the thing about my boys,
Speaker 1: they let me. They're big now, they're grown. They could
Speaker 1: brush me off, they could roll their eyes, they could
Speaker 1: give me that half hug.
Speaker 2: That teenagers give their moms in public. But they don't.
Speaker 2: They hugged me.
Speaker 1: Back every single time. And I don't know how I
Speaker 1: got that lucky. I really don't. Riley gave me a
Speaker 1: hug too, and told me the house smelled incredible. I
Speaker 1: told her to tell Jeremy that he'd love to hear it,
Speaker 1: and she went and told him, of course she did,
Speaker 1: that's the kind of person she is. Then came Colin,
Speaker 1: right on their heels. Colin's always the one that shows
Speaker 1: up with that energy, that big grin, that voice that
Speaker 1: fills up a room before his whole body even clears
Speaker 1: the doorway. He gave me a hug, made some joke
Speaker 1: about how the house is going to be destroyed by
Speaker 1: the end of the night, and headed straight for Jeremy
Speaker 1: in the kitchen. Those two, they have their own language.
Speaker 1: And then came the ones I'd been waiting for, Logan
Speaker 1: Aliyah and little Remedy. I'm just going to tell you
Speaker 1: something right now, when a grand baby walks into the room,
Speaker 1: everything changes. It doesn't matter how loud the house is,
Speaker 1: it doesn't matter how many conversations are already happening. The
Speaker 1: second that little person comes through the door, the air shifts,
Speaker 1: Voices get softer, people reach out, Smiles land on faces
Speaker 1: that didn't even know they needed it. Remedy came in,
Speaker 1: wrapped in her little outfit, big eyes, taking everything in,
Speaker 1: and Jeremy came out of the kitchen so fast you'd
Speaker 1: think somebody had called his name three times.
Speaker 2: He scooped her right.
Speaker 1: Up, and for a second everything stopped. I watched him
Speaker 1: hold her, that big, rough, working man with flower on
Speaker 1: his hands and a dish towel over his shoulder, holding
Speaker 1: that little girl who looks just like his son used to,
Speaker 1: and I thought to myself, this is it. This is
Speaker 1: the whole thing. This is why we do any of it,
Speaker 1: because somewhere along the way, the kids you raised become parents,
Speaker 1: and the babies they bring into the world become the
Speaker 1: reason the whole thing keeps going. That's the quiet miracle
Speaker 1: nobody prepares you for. You think raising them is the
Speaker 1: finish line. You think the goal is getting them through it.
Speaker 1: But then one day you're standing in your kitchen watching
Speaker 1: your husband hold your granddaughter while your son watches both
Speaker 1: of them with that look on his face, and you
Speaker 1: realize there's no finish line. It just keeps expanding, just
Speaker 1: keeps getting bigger, It just keeps filling up with more
Speaker 1: love than you thought was possible, and remedy.
Speaker 2: This little girl.
Speaker 1: She's going to grow up knowing this She's going to
Speaker 1: know what it feels like to walk into a room
Speaker 1: full of people who are happy just to see her face.
Speaker 2: She's going to.
Speaker 1: Know what love sounds like when it's coming from every
Speaker 1: corner at once. And that's the inheritance that matters, not money,
Speaker 1: not stuff that After Logan and Aliyah, the door didn't
Speaker 1: really stop. Keenan came in next, with Sophie right beside him.
Speaker 1: Keenan's our funnier one. He watches, he listens, he takes
Speaker 1: it all in before he steps fully into the noise.
Speaker 1: But once he's there, he's there. Sophie slid right into
Speaker 1: the mix, laughing at something one of the cousins said,
Speaker 1: immediately comfortable. That's a gift too. You know when your
Speaker 1: child loves walks into your house and just fits. No awkwardness,
Speaker 1: no trying to find her footing, just in, just home.
Speaker 1: Tristan came in a few minutes later, and the minute
Speaker 1: he and Keenan were in the same room, I could
Speaker 1: hear them, the teasing, the back and forth, the brother thing.
Speaker 1: It's not soft, it's not always sweet. Sometimes it sounds
Speaker 1: like they're ready to fight, but it's love. It's the
Speaker 1: kind of love that was forged over years of sharing
Speaker 1: bedrooms and fighting over the last pizza pizza, and defending
Speaker 1: each other at school when nobody else would. Gavin got
Speaker 1: pulled right into the middle of it. And there they were,
Speaker 1: three of our boys, laughing, giving each other a hard time,
Speaker 1: and somewhere in the middle of it all, I heard
Speaker 1: Gavin laugh that deep laugh, the one that sounds like
Speaker 1: his dad's, and I had to turn my face away
Speaker 1: for a second, because I'm not going to cry in
Speaker 1: my own kitchen, at least not this early in the night.
Speaker 2: Then the girls.
Speaker 1: Started showing up in full force. Maddie was already here,
Speaker 1: but then Aneline came around the corner and torn, each
Speaker 1: of them, carrying their own personality like a signature, Torn
Speaker 1: with that sharp sense of humor that'll cut you down
Speaker 1: before you even see it coming, Analine with that warmth
Speaker 1: that just wraps around the room. Mattie holding it all
Speaker 1: together like she does. They found each other in the
Speaker 1: living room, puddled up on the couch, talking about things
Speaker 1: I wasn't supposed to hear. And that's fine, that's their moment,
Speaker 1: that's theirs. I keep moving through the house, checking on Jeremy,
Speaker 1: checking on the kids, making sure the little ones weren't
Speaker 1: about to break something, and still people kept coming. Cousin
Speaker 1: Logan with Kate Connor with Haley, Matthew, Sammy, Cammy, Gigi,
Speaker 1: and the two little ones running around like they've been
Speaker 1: given mission to own the entire house for the evening,
Speaker 1: and of course his aunt walking in with that smile,
Speaker 1: that same smile that she'd had for forty years. Some
Speaker 1: people carry family with them, they just do. You see them,
Speaker 1: and you remember every family gathering you've ever been to,
Speaker 1: every birthday, every holiday, every scraped knee, every tear wiped away.
Speaker 2: Yep, that's it.
Speaker 1: Every corner of the house had life in it now,
Speaker 1: every single corner. The living room had its own conversation happening.
Speaker 1: The kitchen had another, The hallway had a group of
Speaker 1: cousins laughing about who knows what. The front porch had
Speaker 1: the boys stepping outside to take a breath. The dining
Speaker 1: room had the little ones coloring on something they shouldn't
Speaker 1: have been coloring on. And I stood in the doorway
Speaker 1: for just a second, just a second, and I took
Speaker 1: it all in, because here's the truth. Nobody really tells
Speaker 1: you when you're young and raising babies. You think the
Speaker 1: full houses are exhausting ones. You think the loud ones
Speaker 1: are the hard ones. You think you'll be relieved when
Speaker 1: things calm down someday, but you won't be, because this,
Speaker 1: right here, this is what you're working for. The whole
Speaker 1: time you were working for a full house, you were
Speaker 1: working for the day when all the kids you used
Speaker 1: to carry around would walk through the door on their
Speaker 1: own two feet, with the people they love, with babies
Speaker 1: of their own.
Speaker 2: This is the prize. This is it.
Speaker 1: The most people, when they finally get here, they're too
Speaker 1: tired to see it.
Speaker 2: But I saw it that night.
Speaker 1: I saw every single face, and I promised myself I
Speaker 1: wouldn't forget a single one. Meanwhile, back in the kitchen,
Speaker 1: Jeremy was deep in it. I mean deep in it.
Speaker 1: If you've never watched your husband cook for twenty plus
Speaker 1: people like he's preparing a feast for royalty, you haven't lived.
Speaker 1: The strogan Off was on, the noodles were going, Something
Speaker 1: was in the oven that I hadn't even asked about.
Speaker 1: He was moving from pot to pot, the oven to counter,
Speaker 1: without ever once looking rushed. That's the thing about Jermy.
Speaker 1: He doesn't cook fast. He cooks with intention, every stir,
Speaker 1: every pinch of something, every taste, every adjustment. And the smell, oh,
Speaker 1: my goodness, the smell rich, warm, savory, the kind of
Speaker 1: smell that gets into the carpet and stays there for
Speaker 1: two days, the kind of smell that makes people walk
Speaker 1: into the kitchen just to ask how long. And every
Speaker 1: single time somebody asked, he'd smile because he was loving it.
Speaker 1: He was in his element. People kept drifting in to
Speaker 1: steal little tastes. They bite off a spoon. Hmm, that's incredible, Dad, Jeremy,
Speaker 1: what did you put in this?
Speaker 2: Can I take some of this home?
Speaker 1: And he just kept stirring, nodding, laughing a little under
Speaker 1: his breath, because for him, this wasn't a chore. This
Speaker 1: was the whole point. Feeding his family is his love language,
Speaker 1: always has been, and that night he was speaking it
Speaker 1: fluently when dinner finally hit the table. I wish you
Speaker 1: could have seen it, I really do. Flights being passed,
Speaker 1: cares being pulled closer, people standing up, sitting down, reaching
Speaker 1: over each other, somebody asking for the salt, somebody else
Speaker 1: asking why they always have to pass it, Kids at
Speaker 1: the table arguing about something small and important to them.
Speaker 1: Remedy on someone's lap, grinning, the big boys at one end,
Speaker 1: the girls at the other, Jeremy standing for half of
Speaker 1: it because he refused to sit down and tell everyone
Speaker 1: had food. It was loud, Oh my goodness, it was loud,
Speaker 1: but it was the best kind of loud, the kind
Speaker 1: of loud that tells you no one is a stranger
Speaker 1: in this room, the kind of loud that says we
Speaker 1: are comfortable here, we belong here, we're home. Somebody knocked
Speaker 1: over a glass of water, nobody panicked. Three people reached
Speaker 1: for napkins at the same time. One of the little
Speaker 1: ones thought it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen
Speaker 1: in her whole life and started laughing so hard she
Speaker 1: almost fell out of her chair, which made everybody else
Speaker 1: start laughing, Which is exactly the way dinner in this
Speaker 1: house goes. Something goes wrong, and we just absorb it,
Speaker 1: We turn it into part of the story. Jeremy finally
Speaker 1: sat down for about thirty seconds before he was back
Speaker 1: up checking on somebody's plate.
Speaker 2: I told him to sit. He didn't listen.
Speaker 1: He never does, because in his head, as long as
Speaker 1: one person at the table doesn't have something they need.
Speaker 1: Dinner isn't done. I looked over at Gavin and he
Speaker 1: was just soaking it in. He was laughing at something
Speaker 1: Colin said, listening to his cousin tell a story, helping
Speaker 1: one of the little ones with a napkin.
Speaker 2: He looked happy, really happy.
Speaker 1: Not the kind of happy you fake for a birthday,
Speaker 1: the deep kind, the kind that settles in your chest.
Speaker 1: I remember at one point he just stopped for maybe
Speaker 1: five seconds. He didn't eat, he didn't talk, he just
Speaker 1: looked around the table, and I watched him do it.
Speaker 1: I know what that look is because I made that
Speaker 1: same look standing in this house a hundred times. It's
Speaker 1: the look of someone realizing these people this right here,
Speaker 1: this is mine, this is who loves me, And for
Speaker 1: a mom, that's everything, that's the whole job. When dinner
Speaker 1: started winding down, I knew it was time. I caught
Speaker 1: Maddie's eye across the table. He nodded, We moved, Light
Speaker 1: started going down around the house. Jeremy cleared a spot
Speaker 1: on the table, Maddie and I carried out the cake,
Speaker 1: carry chocolate, nineteen candles flowing, flickering. The whole room went
Speaker 1: quiet for just a second when it came around the corner,
Speaker 1: and then somebody started singing. I'm not even sure who
Speaker 1: started at first, but once it started, everybody joined in.
Speaker 1: And I'm going to be honest with you.
Speaker 2: Nobody was in tune, nobody was in time.
Speaker 1: Half the people were laughing while they sang. The little
Speaker 1: ones were half a verse behind. Somebody was singing the
Speaker 1: wrong words on purpose, and it was perfect. It was
Speaker 1: absolutely perfect, because you don't need harmony when you've got
Speaker 1: this much love in one room. I watched Gavin the
Speaker 1: whole time. I couldn't help it. I watched my son,
Speaker 1: my second boy, my kid who used to hide behind
Speaker 1: my legs when strangers came over, standing in front of
Speaker 1: a cake, his mom and sister, made surrounded by people
Speaker 1: who have known him his whole life, and for a second,
Speaker 1: I saw all of him at once. I saw the baby.
Speaker 1: I saw the toddler with the messy hair. I saw
Speaker 1: the little boy who used to hand me dandelions like
Speaker 1: they were roses. I saw the kid on the first
Speaker 1: day of school. I saw the teenager who figured out
Speaker 1: how to make people laugh. I saw the young man
Speaker 1: standing there now, quiet, steady, surrounded all of them, all
Speaker 1: at once stacked up inside that one face. That's what
Speaker 1: a birthday really is when you're the mom. It's not
Speaker 1: one year, it's every year. It's every version of that kid,
Speaker 1: all existing in the same breath. And right before he
Speaker 1: blew out the candles, he closed his eyes just for
Speaker 1: a second, longer than most people do. And I don't
Speaker 1: know what he wished for. I never asked. I'm not
Speaker 1: going to because some wishes are meant to stay between
Speaker 1: a boy and his birthday. But whatever he wished for
Speaker 1: that night, I hope he feels it someday. I hope
Speaker 1: it comes true in the biggest way, because if anyone
Speaker 1: deserves it.
Speaker 2: It's him.
Speaker 1: He blew out the candles, the room erupted, clapping, cheering,
Speaker 1: somebody yelling speech speech in the back. He just laughed
Speaker 1: and shook his head. That's Gavin. Never needed the spot,
Speaker 1: but he had it anyway. After the cake, the night
Speaker 1: just kind of softened, you know what I mean. The
Speaker 1: peak had happened, the big moment had landed, and now
Speaker 1: everyone was just together, just being The older kids drifted
Speaker 1: out to the porch, the girls curled up on the
Speaker 1: couch with their plates. Jeremy finally sat down, actually sat down,
Speaker 1: with a full plate and a glass of something cold.
Speaker 1: I watched him lean back for the first time in hours.
Speaker 1: He looked at me from across the room and he
Speaker 1: gave me that little smile, the one that only I know,
Speaker 1: the one that says we did it another one, and
Speaker 1: I smiled back, because yeah, we did. The little kids
Speaker 1: were starting to wear out. One of them was asleep
Speaker 1: on the floor with a pillow under her head. Another
Speaker 1: one was fighting sleep with everything she had remedy, was
Speaker 1: ready to go. The big boys were outside talking, and
Speaker 1: I'll tell you something. I don't know what they were
Speaker 1: talking about. I don't need to, because whatever it was,
Speaker 1: it was theirs brothers. Talking on the porch at night
Speaker 1: after a birthday dinner is something sacred. You don't interrupt that.
Speaker 1: You just let it happen. You just know that somewhere
Speaker 1: out there in the dark, your sons are connecting, and
Speaker 1: that's enough.
Speaker 2: I glanced out the window.
Speaker 1: At one point I could see them standing there, Gavin
Speaker 1: in the middle, a couple of the others around him.
Speaker 1: Someone said something I couldn't hear, and Gavin threw his
Speaker 1: head back, laughing that full body laugh, the one that
Speaker 1: tells you he's okay, the one that tells you he's happy,
Speaker 1: the one that tells you this day landed.
Speaker 2: Exactly the way it was supposed to.
Speaker 1: And I stepped away from the window because that wasn't
Speaker 1: my moment to watch, it was his. The girls inside
Speaker 1: were laughing harder, now deep laughs laughs. Somebody was telling
Speaker 1: a story, somebody else was adding details to it. Anneline
Speaker 1: had that look on her face like she was about
Speaker 1: to drop a one liner that was going to wreck everybody,
Speaker 1: and sure enough she did.
Speaker 2: The whole room lost it.
Speaker 1: I laughed to tell my cheeks hurt, and for a
Speaker 1: second I caught myself thinking, I'm going to remember this
Speaker 1: night for the rest of my life, not because anything
Speaker 1: huge happened, not because we did anything crazy, but because
Speaker 1: it was full. It was so full, full of people,
Speaker 1: full of love, full of noise, full of life. One
Speaker 1: by one, people started heading home. That's the bittersweet part
Speaker 1: of a night like this, the leaving hugs at the door,
Speaker 1: Drive safe, love you, text me when you get home,
Speaker 1: don't forget your plate. We'll see you Sunday. And each
Speaker 1: time the door closed, the house got a little quieter,
Speaker 1: a little emptier, a little softer, until finally it was
Speaker 1: just a handful that stayed until the end, the ones
Speaker 1: who aren't in any hurry, the ones who linger because
Speaker 1: they don't want the night to be over either. Jeremy
Speaker 1: and I started cleaning up, slowly, not in a rush,
Speaker 1: just moving through the kitchen, wiping counter, stacking plates, picking
Speaker 1: up a straight cup here, a crumbled napkin there. And
Speaker 1: in the middle of all of it, I stopped. I
Speaker 1: stopped right there in the kitchen, and I looked around.
Speaker 1: The counters were sticky, there were chairs out of place.
Speaker 1: Somebody had left their sweater on the back of the chair.
Speaker 1: There was cake frosting on the floor, a plate of
Speaker 1: leftover strogan Off on the stove. The trash was overflowing.
Speaker 1: And I just stood there and I smiled, because that mess,
Speaker 1: that beautiful, sticky, exhausting, cluttered mess, was the proof, the
Speaker 1: proof that this house held a party tonight, the proof
Speaker 1: that it held a lot of people, the proof that
Speaker 1: they came, the proof that they stayed, the proof that
Speaker 1: my boy turned nineteen and he was loved deeply, completely
Speaker 1: buy everyone in that room. Okay, before I wrap this up,
Speaker 1: I got to do something for you, because you know,
Speaker 1: I can end this.
Speaker 2: Episode without it.
Speaker 1: The cherry chocolate cake, the cake, the one Gavin's asked
Speaker 1: for every year. I'm going to give it to you
Speaker 1: the way my family does it. Nothing fancy, just real.
Speaker 1: You're going to need one box of chocolate cake mix. Yes,
Speaker 1: one box. Don't give me that look. I've been making
Speaker 1: cakes for twenty plus years and sometimes a box is
Speaker 1: exactly right. Make them according to the directions on the back.
Speaker 1: Add one can of cherry pie filling into the batter.
Speaker 1: Pour them into the pan, bake it. Let it cool completely. Now,
Speaker 1: while it's cooling, take a can of cherry pie filling
Speaker 1: and set it on the counter next to it. Open
Speaker 1: it up, and while you're at it, open your whipped frosting.
Speaker 1: When the cake is cool, spread a good layer of
Speaker 1: whipped frosting on top. Then spoon cherry pie filling on
Speaker 1: top of that. Let it sit for a little while.
Speaker 1: Don't be neat. This cake isn't supposed to be neat.
Speaker 1: It's supposed to look like it was made with love.
Speaker 1: Let it pool, Let it drip a little down the
Speaker 1: sides if you want to. That's the whole beauty of it.
Speaker 1: Stick some candles in it, dim the lights, call the
Speaker 1: people you love into the room, and watch somebody's face
Speaker 1: light up when they see it. That's the recipe. It's
Speaker 1: not complicated, it never was. The best ones never are.
Speaker 2: And listen.
Speaker 1: If yours comes out a little crooked, if the frosting
Speaker 1: slides off the side, if the cherry filling drips onto
Speaker 1: the counter and you have to wipe it up, that's fine.
Speaker 1: That's better than fine, because in this house, we don't
Speaker 1: make pinterest cakes. We make cakes that taste like childhood.
Speaker 1: We make cakes that get remembered. We make cakes that
Speaker 1: end up in the family photo album twenty years from
Speaker 1: now with somebody's little face behind them, covered in frosting.
Speaker 1: That's what you're making. You're not making dessert. You're making
Speaker 1: a memory. So don't stress about it looking perfect. Just
Speaker 1: make it with love. The people you're feeding will taste it,
Speaker 1: I promise. Jeremy and I finally made it to the
Speaker 1: couch that night, late, very late. The house was quiet,
Speaker 1: the dishwasher was humming, the lights were low, and I
Speaker 1: just leaned into him.
Speaker 2: Didn't say a word. He didn't either.
Speaker 1: We just sat there, tired, full together and somewhere in
Speaker 1: that quiet I thought about my boy. I thought about
Speaker 1: my baby I held nineteen years ago. I thought about
Speaker 1: the toddler who used to run through the living room
Speaker 1: with no p hands on. I thought about the little
Speaker 1: boy who lost his first tooth. I thought about the
Speaker 1: kid who fell off his bike and got right back on.
Speaker 1: I thought about the teenager who was crazier than I
Speaker 1: expected him to be. I thought about the young man
Speaker 1: walked through my door tonight, holding hands with someone he loves,
Speaker 1: and I thought, you don't raise them for the milestones.
Speaker 1: You raised them for the room. You raised them for
Speaker 1: the day when the room is full. You raise them
Speaker 1: for the moment when every chair is taken, every plate
Speaker 1: is out, every voice is layered, and they look around
Speaker 1: and realize this is mine, this is my family, this
Speaker 1: is where I belong. You raise them for that. Everything
Speaker 1: else is just a road to it. I kissed Jeremy
Speaker 1: on the top of his forehead, and I told him
Speaker 1: thank you for all of it, For the dinner, for
Speaker 1: the life we built, for saying yes to every one
Speaker 1: of those kids, for showing up every single time. He
Speaker 1: didn't say anything, He just squeezed my hand, and that
Speaker 1: was enough. Because some nights, words would only get in
Speaker 1: the way. Some nights, you just sit with the person
Speaker 1: you love in a house that held everything it was
Speaker 1: supposed to hold, and.
Speaker 2: You let the quiet say it for you.
Speaker 1: That's what we did for a long long time, just
Speaker 1: sat there and let the night settle into the walls. So, Gavin,
Speaker 1: if you ever hear this someday, when you're older, or
Speaker 1: when your kids are older, or when you're standing in
Speaker 1: your own kitchen watching your own household of people you love,
Speaker 1: I want you to remember this night, not because anything
Speaker 1: big happened, but because everyone came, everyone showed up, everyone
Speaker 1: loved you. And that's the kind of wealth nobody can
Speaker 1: take from you ever. Happy nineteenth birthday, my boy, and
Speaker 1: to everyone listening, thank you for being here with me tonight.
Speaker 1: Thank you for letting me bring you into our little
Speaker 1: corner of the world. If tonight's episode meant something to you,
Speaker 1: share it with someone you love, call your kid, bake
Speaker 1: a cake, fill your table. Because the nights you think
Speaker 1: are ordinary are almost always the ones you'll remember the longest.
Speaker 1: I am Maya Hanson, and this is we are the Hansons.
Speaker 1: I'll see you next time.