Jane looks between Rose and me, and very strongly, she says, “Ensemble.” “Ensemble,” our children then exclaim at once. My lips pull upward into a blinding grin. Rose is moved, fingers to her own lips, and her fiery yellow-green eyes meet my calm deep blue. I skim the base of her neck with my hand. We draw our gazes to our children. Fire and water upon them. We tell all seven the one word that has breathed inside of us from the moment we met. We say, “Ensemble.” Together.
