Bob chuckles, and Sophie makes a gagging sound that earns her a frown from her father.
The front door opens again, and Carol emerges carrying a tray with steaming mugs.She’s still in her robe, her hair hastily pulled back, and she’s shaking her head with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.
“I just knew you’d start today, but at this time, Bob?”She sets the tray down on the porch railing.“It’s barely six in the morning!I have to make breakfast and get to the shop.”
Bob takes a mug sheepishly.“Sorry, honey.Got a little carried away.”
“A little?”Carol hands out the remaining mugs—coffee for Olivia and me, hot milk for Sophie.“I have deliveries coming in today.Special orders for the holiday rush.And Linda called in sick, so I’m alone at the shop.”
“Mom, you don’t need to—” Sophie starts reaching for the coffee mug instead of the milk.
Carol swats her hand away.“You’re too young for coffee.Drink this instead.”
“Did the baby get her glass of milk?”Olivia teases, accepting her own mug with a grateful smile.
Sophie glares at her sister.“I’m fourteen, not four.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Olivia murmurs into her coffee.
“I’ll try to get to the shop after I finish Mrs.Henderson’s job.There’s still some work left to do there,” Bob says, warming his hands around his mug.“Shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”
“I’ll come by if you need help, Mom,” Olivia offers.
Carol waves her off.“No, no.You and Alexander should enjoy your vacation.You two work so hard as it is.”
“I’d love to help,” I back Olivia up.“If you need an extra pair of hands.”
Carol’s face softens, and she reaches out to pat my arm.“That’s very sweet of you, Alexander.Let me see how the morning goes.If I need backup, I’ll call.”
We stand outside in the cold, sipping our warm drinks.The street is still quiet, most of the neighbors just waking up.Christmas lights twinkle on nearby houses, and somewhere in the distance, I hear the faint sound of bells chiming.
“Alright,” Carol says, collecting the empty mugs.“I need to get breakfast started.Olivia, come help me?”
“Sure, Mom.”
I squeeze Olivia’s arm gently before she can move away.“I’ve got this,” I murmur, nodding toward her father and the decorations.She glances back once with a small smile before following her mother inside.
That leaves Bob, Sophie, and me with the decorations.Bob rubs his hands together enthusiastically.“Alright, let’s get to work.Sophie, grab that box of icicle lights.Alexander, you’re on garland duty.”
The next hour passes in a flurry of activity.We string lights along the porch railing, their white bulbs twinkling even in the growing daylight.Bob shows me how to drape garland properly—not too tight, not too loose, with red velvet bows at strategic intervals.Sophie handles the pathway markers, alternating between candy canes and small light-up Christmas trees that lead from the sidewalk to the front porch steps.
Bob pulls out a large wooden sleigh—clearly handmade, the craftsmanship impressive—and positions it on the lawn.“Made this myself fifteen years ago,” he says with pride.“Goes right here, filled with wrapped presents.”He produces a box of fake gift boxes, all wrapped in shimmering gift paper with elaborate bows.
We work on the inflatable decorations next.A massive snowman goes on the left side of the yard, a cheerful penguin on the right.Sophie insists on adding a small nativity scene near the porch steps, the figures glowing softly.
Once it’s in place, she steps back to admire the yard and gives Bob a quick kiss on the cheek.“I’m going to get ready for school.”
She runs off, and Bob glances at me.“It’s just us men left.Now for the pièce de résistance,” he announces, pulling out strings of multicolored lights.“Roof lights.This is where we separate the amateurs from the professionals.”
As Bob sets up his ladder, he glances across the street at Brookman’s house and snorts.“Look at that mess.Those icicle lights are uneven.The spacing on those snowmen is all wrong.And don’t even get me started on that color scheme.Mixing warm white and cool white?Tacky.”I hide my smile as Bob continues his running commentary, pointing out every flaw in the neighbor’s display with unmistakable glee.
I didn’t expect to enjoy myself this much.Standing in a suburban yard, hanging Christmas lights and listening to a middle-aged plumber critique decorating techniques—it’s so far removed from my usual existence that it feels almost surreal.But there’s something genuine about it, something real that all my billions can’t buy.
“Alexander, hold this end steady!”Bob calls from the ladder, and I move to help, falling back into the easy rhythm we’ve established.
Standing here with Bob, being included in his family’s annual tradition like I’ve always been part of it… Is this what family is supposed to feel like?I find myself wanting more of it.Wanting all of it, actually.And I find myself not wanting to lose this.
The morning air bites at my cheeks as Alexander, Sophie, and I make our way toward Silverbell Hollow High School.This is our tradition; whenever I’m home, I walk Sophie to school.It’s our small ritual, one way we hold onto the sister bond despite the distance between us most of the year.
