I turn the page in Mom’s diary and read on.
December 10th
My Little Loin Fruit #4 — Today we hunted for a Christmas tree. The key to picking a good tree is all about the shake. If a lot of pine needles fall off, it won’t last. You need one that can withstand toddlers and gobs of tinsel. One as strong asthe man hauling it to the roof of your minivan and strapping it down while you sip the hot cocoa from the Thermos and dream of sugar plums.
That moment lasted for all of twenty seconds before Isaiah was crying that the tree was going to fall off the roof and Angie spilled her hot cocoa down her coat and Dane tried to get in the car of another family. But I wouldn’t trade today for any other. Soon, you’re going to enter the best family ever, and it’s only going to get better with you in it.
Love,
Mama
I think back to Christmas as a child. I don’t remember any of them with my mom. Nothing as magical and chaotic as what she described. I remember gifts and the excitement around Santa Claus, but TV and school created most of the magic. Angie always did her best to decorate, but I never remember getting a real tree. Dad would just haul one up from the basement and we’d do our best with the ornaments.
Every year I tried giving Dad the best gift I could. When I was a kid, they were gifts that made me happy, so I thought they’d make him happy. He’d smile, but it never lasted. When I was old enough to realize he probably wanted a present thatheliked, like a new tool belt or a Philadelphia Eagles hat, I’d get met with the same smile and thank you, but a clear sign that he didn’t need anything from us.
It stung, but I never gave up. I just wanted him to be merry and bright for one day, and I wanted to be the person that made that happen. I wanted him to see me as someone worth loving.
The last couple of years, we’ve all seen a positive change in him. He’s more present with us, and he’s opening up. Maybe others wouldn’t be so welcoming of an emotionally closed-off father just now coming around—just now showingaffection and meaning it—but I’ve been waiting for this, praying it would happen.
And I need more of it.
I set Mom’s diary aside and pull out my phone to call him.
“Hey, bud. What’s up?”
“Can I host family dinner this Sunday?”
“Um... sure. I don’t see why not. You certainly have the space.”
“You would come if I did? Because I could host all of them.”
There’s a soft chuckle from his end before he speaks. “Of course I’ll be there. But maybe see how the first one goes before committing to hosting all of them.”
“I could though!”
“Bud, no offense, but you forgot about your own high school graduation.”
“That was the old me. The new me has a farm and animals to care for and a rugby team to level up.”
“Alright,” he concedes, but doesn’t sound convinced. He sounds like a father who knows his kid might fail, but is willing to let him learn that lesson.
But I’m gonna prove him wrong.
After we hang up, I text the whole family, including Joaquín and his moms to let them know dinner is at my house this week and that I’ll provide everything. There’s an extraordinarily long pause before someone responds—almost like they’re having side chats about this.
Angie: Sounds like fun! Would you like any help beforehand?
Ana: We will bring the enchiladas.
Jonah: No I can do it! Dont bring anything but urselves
Ivy:
Dane: This I gotta see
Once I’m showered and ready for bed, I coax King to join me. He’s unsure if he’s even allowed, but with lots of praise and petting, he takes a spot curled next to me.
Normally, I doom scroll before bed, but I remember the pictures I took on my property today and start investigating each one before sending them off to Renée.
