Page 323 of What We Brave
I made these people. Well, Reid and Blake helped, but Igrewthem. Three whole humans who now have opinions about things and ask questions I can't answer and sometimes look at me like I'm supposed to know what I'm doing.
There was a time when this level of noise would have made me twitchy. I would have been calculating exit routes, estimating how long until I could reasonably claim a headache.
My first year as a travel nurse, I kept my entire life in two suitcases. Anything that didn't fit got left behind. People included.
Now I have a Costco membership and a minivan and three kids who will absolutely not fit in a suitcase.
Younger me would be horrified. Younger me was an idiot.
"Mama." June appears at my elbow. "When do we open presents?"
"After dinner. One tonight, rest tomorrow."
"But I want to open them now."
"That's what makes it special. The waiting."
She considers this. Skeptical. "Waiting doesn't feel special. It feels slow."
"Same thing sometimes."
She gives me the look—the one that says she's pretty sure I'm making things up but she can't prove it yet. She gets that from Reid. Give her a few years and she'll be calling me out on everything.
"Go wash your hands."
Dinner is loud. Messy. Perfect.
My father says grace, something he hasn't done in front of me since I was a teenager and too cool for it. His voice is steady, thanking God for family and homecoming and second chances.
I stare at my plate so no one sees me tear up.
For years, Christmas dinner was takeout in a hospital breakroom, or a polite meal at a hostel with strangers where we all avoided the "where are you from" questions because the answers were too complicated. I used to tell myself I preferred it that way. Less pressure. Fewer expectations.
I was lying.
Blake's hand finds my knee under the table. Squeezes once.
He knows. He always knows.
The one-present tradition goes about how you'd expect.
Caleb gets building blocks—the fancy architectural kind Blake picked out—and immediately starts constructing something elaborate on the floor. June tears into her package, finds a dress for her rabbit, and makes the rabbit kiss everyone in the room to say thank you. Iris ignores her board book entirely and plays with the wrapping paper for twenty minutes.
I should probably redirect her. Teach her about the actual gift. Be educational.
Instead I watch her shred paper with the focus of a tiny, adorable destructor, and I think:I made that.That small ridiculous person exists because I decided to stay.
My parents exchange small packages. Compass for him, silk scarf for her. Forty years of knowing exactly what the other person needs.
Reid gives Blake a new tool belt. Blake gives Reid a watch with something engraved on the back. I don't see what it says, but Reid goes very still when he reads it, then grabs the back of Blake's neck, pressing their foreheads together.
It's not traditionally intimate. But everyone in the room sees the intimacy anyway.
They give me a necklace. Three small stones—garnet, emerald, pearl. One for each kid.
"We'll add to it," Reid says. "As the family grows."
I don't trust my voice. Just nod and let Blake fasten it around my neck.
