From the new column: Kingdoms and Diamonds about love, marriage, traversals, emotional health and healing.

Had I not learned from him—well, I don’t know who or where I’d be. Probably living in the mountains or near a body of water, becoming more obscure by the moment. Maybe I’d keep writing; maybe I’d finally have time to pick up the guitar. But I can’t avoid the presence of hearts and thoughts, of evil and the destitution of the world. I would have stayed in a safe womb where Charlie, Bobbi, Rolli, and now Button sit.

By the time Button came along, I knew not to drink milk or Pepsi—but kids like what they like. Most of them are picky.

Their father and I are, too.

I sat down to get my life in order—reordered, I guess—a couple of summers ago, and realized I love about fifteen things in the entire world. One of them is travel. But I like what I like, and so do they. Branches of the same tree—his and mine—simple and larger-than-life auras. I want nothing to do with any of it, but he had to become the biggest and the best. I’d have loved him either way, but I love that he encourages me, inspires me to be the very best I can be. Otherwise, I’d have spent my days frequenting farmers’ markets, volunteering, shopping for this and that; staring at a first edition of The Catcher in the Rye, studying whatever intrigued me, walking around with nothing in particular on my mind.

Of course, I always wanted a family.

He had to make sure everyone was themselves, and I guess I seemed—

It doesn’t matter now. We’ve got everything we wanted and a lot of complexities that are truly simple drama—cut-and-dry anxiety from people who are privileged, safe, wealthy, and sometimes find their homes, cars, and daily lives are just enough.

No one is starving. No one is suffering from the love he and I have cultivated—at first sight, at first heartbeat, at first cry.

They think power is supposed to feel like something—that it changes us, or makes us want to hurt or dominate each other.

They don’t understand the healthy balance of love and power.

One of us has something up our sleeve—or both—and no one knows how it will play out. But we are parents, and we love each other.

I didn’t know milk made him sick until our son gave me nausea and sweats. I feel guilty because he has bad bones, and I realized he can’t just take calcium. Me prescribing milk baths—it was all probably vomit-inducing.