Chapter 10 - The First Snow of a New Tradition
December arrived again with the swift, silent efficiency of an Ohio winter.
The first snowfall of the year blanketed the neighborhood in a pristine, glittering white coat on the morning of December twentieth. Inside Daniel and Kara’s house, the atmosphere was entirely different from the year before.
There was no polite distance. No careful scheduling. No hiding behind closed doors.
The living room was an absolute disaster area of wrapping paper, ribbon rolls, and half-built toys, and nobody cared. The tree lights were slightly crooked—Daniel still hadn't quite mastered the art of even spacing—and the cinnamon rolls in the oven were, once again, slightly scorched on the bottom because the oven still ran a little too hot.
I stood in the center of the bustling kitchen with my reading glasses sliding down my nose, wearing a red apron that Leo had bought me for my birthday with his own allowance money.
Daniel walked up behind me, wrapping his strong arms around my shoulders and resting his chin on the top of my head just like he used to do decades ago in the old farmhouse kitchen.
"Smells like Christmas, Mom," he whispered.
I smiled, turning around in his embrace to pat his cheek with a flour-dusted hand.
"It smells like home, son," I said.
From the living room, Leo shouted, "Grandma! Dad! Come on! We're opening the presents, and the breakfast dishes aren't even done yet!"
May you like
Daniel laughed, taking my hand in his. "Come on, Mom. The real part of Christmas is about to begin."
And this time, I didn't have to wait outside. I walked right into the middle of the noise, the mess, and the overflowing love, taking my rightful place at a table that was wide enough, and warm enough, for all of us.
