cabin and I’m pleased with the outcome.
I cross the room and dig through one of the boxes for a big red bow. It has twist-ties on the back and I tie it so the top of the hanger is hidden.
I open the front door and hang the wreath on the small nail already dug into the wood from previous Christmases, I assume. Something inside of me blooms, the feeling of fullness that I always get around the holidays. And even though it’s my first Christmas without my family in the same house, it still feels right.
“Looks good,” Will says from midway down the stairs.
I admire my work for another moment or two before closing the front door. I wrap my hands around my arms and rub them together to get rid of the chill from the dropping temperature outside.
I open the box of ornaments and peek inside. “What’s for dinner?”
“That’s a surprise.”
I roll my eyes. I was the one who went shopping. There were only so many combinations of items to make from what we bought. But I play along.
I bring the box of ornaments to the coffee table before I start sorting them. Decorating the tree had always been up to dad and me. It was the only thing he was particular on for Christmas. He insisted that all angles of the tree were evenly decorated, something that required particular planning. I unpack all of the ornaments and separate them by color before I figure out where to place them.
The sun starts to set in the distance, which makes the white lights on the tree twinkle brighter with each passing minute.
“Dinner is served,” Will says.
I turn and he presents me with a sandwich and chips on the side. I take the plate from him and we sit side by side on the couch.
“Isn’t that a little OCD?” he notes through a bite of sandwich, indicating the ornaments.
“It’s a defined process,” I say. “Perfected over many years.”
“OCD,” he murmurs under his breath and I elbow him in the arm.
“Nice job on ‘dinner’.”
“Hey,” he says, stealing a chip from my plate even though he has plenty. “I don’t have a full restaurant at my fingertips tonight. I’m doing the best I can with what I have.” He exaggerates a thick Italian accent, I’m assuming it’s his best impression of his manager, Ralph.
“It’s delicious,” I say, taking another bite. I didn’t realize how hungry I was since the only thing I ate today was a cookie, and that was hours ago.
“Are you getting into the Christmas spirit?” he asks.
I nod while crunching on a chip. “It’s a different experience without my parents and Ethan, but a good different.”
“Sorry I’m more of a Scrooge.”
I know exactly who to blame for that but I keep my mouth shut. “He changed by the end of the story…” I hint.
“Yeah, I know.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. “Remember how we used to stay up together and try to spot Santa in the sky?”
He chuckles. “And not one year did we stay awake.”
I nibble on my sandwich. “But we always managed to be back in bed when it was time to get up.”
“We must have drove our parents insane.”
I shrug. “They kept us in our dreaming childhood phase as long as they could. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
I know we’re teetering on dangerous ground when Will massages the back of his neck. “Well I think someone is still in that phase.” He kisses my cheek and pushes off from the couch. “I’m going to fix the stair you broke.”
I throw a chip at him and he catches it, popping it into this mouth. “You don’t want to decorate the tree with me?”
“Scrooge doesn’t want to take away the fun,” he says, already walking away.
I don’t push the issue, even though I imagined we’d do this together. Baby steps, I remind myself.
Christmas Eve
I hear Will coming down the stairs the next morning. I roll over, shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. A soft melody of Christmas music floats across the room. I couldn’t make it up the stairs last
I cross the room and dig through one of the boxes for a big red bow. It has twist-ties on the back and I tie it so the top of the hanger is hidden.
I open the front door and hang the wreath on the small nail already dug into the wood from previous Christmases, I assume. Something inside of me blooms, the feeling of fullness that I always get around the holidays. And even though it’s my first Christmas without my family in the same house, it still feels right.
“Looks good,” Will says from midway down the stairs.
I admire my work for another moment or two before closing the front door. I wrap my hands around my arms and rub them together to get rid of the chill from the dropping temperature outside.
I open the box of ornaments and peek inside. “What’s for dinner?”
“That’s a surprise.”
I roll my eyes. I was the one who went shopping. There were only so many combinations of items to make from what we bought. But I play along.
I bring the box of ornaments to the coffee table before I start sorting them. Decorating the tree had always been up to dad and me. It was the only thing he was particular on for Christmas. He insisted that all angles of the tree were evenly decorated, something that required particular planning. I unpack all of the ornaments and separate them by color before I figure out where to place them.
The sun starts to set in the distance, which makes the white lights on the tree twinkle brighter with each passing minute.
“Dinner is served,” Will says.
I turn and he presents me with a sandwich and chips on the side. I take the plate from him and we sit side by side on the couch.
“Isn’t that a little OCD?” he notes through a bite of sandwich, indicating the ornaments.
“It’s a defined process,” I say. “Perfected over many years.”
“OCD,” he murmurs under his breath and I elbow him in the arm.
“Nice job on ‘dinner’.”
“Hey,” he says, stealing a chip from my plate even though he has plenty. “I don’t have a full restaurant at my fingertips tonight. I’m doing the best I can with what I have.” He exaggerates a thick Italian accent, I’m assuming it’s his best impression of his manager, Ralph.
“It’s delicious,” I say, taking another bite. I didn’t realize how hungry I was since the only thing I ate today was a cookie, and that was hours ago.
“Are you getting into the Christmas spirit?” he asks.
I nod while crunching on a chip. “It’s a different experience without my parents and Ethan, but a good different.”
“Sorry I’m more of a Scrooge.”
I know exactly who to blame for that but I keep my mouth shut. “He changed by the end of the story…” I hint.
“Yeah, I know.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. “Remember how we used to stay up together and try to spot Santa in the sky?”
He chuckles. “And not one year did we stay awake.”
I nibble on my sandwich. “But we always managed to be back in bed when it was time to get up.”
“We must have drove our parents insane.”
I shrug. “They kept us in our dreaming childhood phase as long as they could. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
I know we’re teetering on dangerous ground when Will massages the back of his neck. “Well I think someone is still in that phase.” He kisses my cheek and pushes off from the couch. “I’m going to fix the stair you broke.”
I throw a chip at him and he catches it, popping it into this mouth. “You don’t want to decorate the tree with me?”
“Scrooge doesn’t want to take away the fun,” he says, already walking away.
I don’t push the issue, even though I imagined we’d do this together. Baby steps, I remind myself.
Christmas Eve
I hear Will coming down the stairs the next morning. I roll over, shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. A soft melody of Christmas music floats across the room. I couldn’t make it up the stairs last