“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, shrugging as I licked a dollop of whipped cream off my lip. “Haven’t gotten that far yet.”
Both girls froze mid-sip, their eyes going comically wide over the rims of their mugs.
“You... don’t have a plan?” Addie repeated slowly, like I’d just announced I was joining the circus.
“Nope.” I popped the ‘p’ and took another drink, enjoying their shocked expressions more than I probably should have.
Sky made a surprised sound and set her mug down. “What do you mean? Shouldn’t you have a timeline? Or at least decide whether you’re going to list the house or try to rent it out?”
“Sure. Eventually.”
Addie leaned forward, studying me like I was a particularly confusing passage in one of her textbooks. “Mom, this is, like, your literal job—helping people plan every detail of a major life change,” she said, referring to my career as a senior transition specialist and estate organizer—a career I’d started twenty years ago after helping my parents downsize and relocate to Florida.
“Home Again Transitionshandles everything so you can move forward with ease,” Sky added on the off-chance I’d forgotten my own slogan. “You have systems and binders for this very thing…”
I grinned, reaching for another marshmallow from the bag on the table. “Mm hmm.”
The silence that followed was profound. Both girls stared at me like I’d grown a second head.
“Are you feeling okay?” Sky leaned across the table to inspect the healing cut near my hairline. “It doesn’t look infected. Do you know if you were concussed?”
I batted her hand away with a laugh. “I’m fine. Better than fine, actually.”
“But you always have a plan,” Addie insisted, her brow furrowed in genuine concern. “Like, always. Even Grandpa Jack likes to joke that you were born with a five-year plan in your hand.”
She’d inherited that from me, though watching her now—hair twisted into a neat bun, matching pajamas somehow looking put-together despite the late hour—I wondered if maybe I’d passed on too much of my need for control.
The thought didn’t sit well. I didn’t want my daughters to spend their lives the way I had, white-knuckling their way through every moment, terrified of letting anything be less than perfect.
“Yeah, and look where it got me,” I said, the words coming out gentler than they might have even a week ago. “I planned every detail of our lives to the nth degree for over thirty years. Scheduled family time, coordinated everyone’s calendars, made sure every holiday was picture-perfect.”
“Mom—” Sky started, but I shook my head.
“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad or to be dramatic,” I said gently. “I’m just... I’m tired, girls. I’m tired of trying to control everything. I spent years thinking that if I could just control enough variables, keep all the plates spinning, nothing bad would happen.”
My throat tightened slightly, but I pushed through. “But it did. Levi still died. Your dad and I still got divorced. All that planning, all that desperate need for control—it didn’t prevent a single loss. It just left me feeling burned out and disconnected from what actually mattered.”
I’d missed too many moments, worried about the next thing, more concerned with checking items off a list than with being present.
Addie’s eyes were suspiciously bright. “So what are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna take it one day at a time,” I said, and even as I said it, I felt something loosen in my chest. “I’ll figure out the house when I need to figure out the house. I’ll handle the logistics of the move when it’s time. Right now, I’m just going to be here. With your dad. With you two. Actually enjoying Christmas instead of trying to manage it.”
Sky’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Who are you, and what have you done with our mother?” she demanded.
“She’s right here,” I said matter-of-factly. “Maybe just a slightly different version than the one you’re used to. One who’s learning that it’s okay not to know what’s coming next. It’s okay not to have it all figured out.”
Addie reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “But what about your business? Will you keep doing that here?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll do something completely different. Take up pottery. Learn to ski. Become one of those women who hikes mountains at sunrise with golden retriever mountain gods.”
Sky giggled at the comment while Addie let her head fall back with a groan.
The back door opened with a gust of frigid air, and Teddy stomped in carrying an armload of firewood, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. He’d thrown on his jacket but hadn’t bothered to zip it, and I could see his breath clouding in the cold air that followed him in.
“Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey,” he announced, before disappearing into the living room. I heard the metallic clang of the fireplace screen being moved, then the solid thud of logs being added.
When he returned to the kitchen, he planted a kiss on the top of my head before snagging my mug and taking a long drink. “Better not be the good whiskey, Skylar Jade,” he said, smacking his lips together as he placed it back on the table.
