ETHAN AND SHANE ARE BACK!!!!!!!! WA CHA!!!!

It Makes Way for Spring

Shane Branson groaned as he saw his coworker Ethan Caple strut in.  I would be the one stuck with him… he thought furiously.  And on the busy day when people are attacking us with returns.  Day after Christmas with Ethan…

“Shane, Shane, Shane!” Ethan exclaimed, pulling out the well-used tennis ball he played with when business was slow…or fast. 

“Hey.”  Shane half-grimaced/half-smiled in return, taking a moment to admire his tshirt, which had a pair of boxing gloves and the word “day” on it. 

“So?  What did you get?” Ethan asked eagerly.  “For Christmas?”  Without allowing an answer, he continued.  “I got a great haul this year.  New phone.”  He held it up.  “New iPod.”  It was displayed as well.  “New shoes.”  Which were kicked up on the counter, which held a precariously piled lump of clothes.  “Buncha other stuff.” 

“Cool,” Shane mumbled, dividing the heap of clothes into several organized piles. 

“How ‘bout you, kid?” he asked once again. 

“Uh some books on psychology, some new books on guitar theory…”

“I didn’t know you played guitar!” Ethan interrupted. 

“Yeah.  Been playing for about four years.” 

“What do you like to play?  Like metal?”

“Uh, no.  Mostly classical guitar and acoustic.  I really like taking music and making it into an acoustic set.” 

“Oh, cool.”  Shane got the feeling he didn’t think classical guitar was actually that cool.  “What else?”

 “CDs, new laptop…”  Wanting to salvage what little of his reputation was left, Shane neglected to mention his new calculator. 

“Oh, what kind?” 

“PC.” 

“Ouch.”   Ethan winced.  “I’m a Mac.”

“Well, actually Macs really don’t have that much to offer.  Other than applications like iPhoto, their software isn’t a strong point.  They have less capability in terms of software.  Some say that Mac’s get fewer viruses than PC’s, but that’s most likely just because PC’s are so much more prevalent.  When you design a virus, do you want it to infect one Mac or nine PC’s?” 

“Um…  Are viruses like that?  They only infect one type?”

“Often, yes.”  He pushed his thick-rimmed glasses back into place.  “They’re so ubiquitous,” Shane continued, “it’s almost worthless to even learn how to use a Mac.  Most work places use PC’s anyways.  And they’re much cheaper.  Did you know that, on average, PC’s are about four hundred dollars cheaper?”

“Uh…I didn’t know that,” Ethan said, a little overwhelmed. 

“It’s true.  Mac’s actually use Microsoft software, like Microsoft Word.  Have you ever tried to use a Mac’s word processor?  Apple Works is almost useless.” 

“Uh…what does that u-word mean?” Ethan asked. 

“Which one?” Shane asked, organizing the returned clothes once again. 

“Oo-bik-i-tous,” Ethan sounded out. 

Shane struggled not to laugh.  “Ubiquitous.  It means—”

“Omnipresent,” a voice interrupted.  “Everywhere.” 

The voice belonged to Ethan’s girlfriend of three months, Gabby.  Shane was never really sure why she went out with Ethan Caple of all people.  It wasn’t like Ethan was out of her league.  On the contrary, she was pretty, smart, and full of personality.  Shane had seen enough of Ethan’s old girlfriends to know smart normally wasn’t his type. 

“Hey, babe!” Ethan exclaimed. 

“Hey.”  She grinned, taking a book out of her massive purse.  Ethan’s face fell as she set the book on the counter.  “I thought you might wanna get started on this if you guys have some down time.” 

Shane smiled as he read the cover.  “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.  Good read.” 

“Yes!  I loved them when I was a kid!  I had posters of like all the cast members on my wall!” Gabby gushed.

“When you were a kid?”  Shane snickered.  “I still read them when I get bored.” 

“I don’t have to be bored to reread them.” 

“Uh…  Must be some book,” Ethan offered cluelessly. 

“Yeah, they are.”  Gabby grinned. 

“They?” 

“Yep.  There’s seven in the series,” Shane said. 

“I have to read seven books?” Ethan shook his head incredulously. 

“And I won’t brush my teeth until you do,” Gabby promised. 

Ethan shivered dramatically and opened the book. 

“Well, I’ll see you guys later.  I’m gonna go get you an Orange Julius, Ethan.  Want anything, Shane?” 

“Nope.  I’m good.”  Shane shook his half-empty Mango Julius. 

“Oh, did Ivy drop that by?” Gabby asked.  Ethan’s head popped out of the book at the sound of a girl’s name. 

Shane flushed deep red.  “Yeah.”

“I saw her earlier at Forever 21.  Ivy’s really nice, Shane.” 

“I know,” he mumbled, face, if possible, redder. 

“Bye, Gabs!” Ethan yelled as she walked away, her long golden hair swishing behind her. 

They both returned to their activities.  For Shane, work, and for Ethan, Harry Potter. 

“So…” Ethan said, drawing out the so. 

“So what?” Shane snapped. 

Ethan grinned broadly and began folding the returns.  “Who is this Ivy chick?” 

“Wow, you’re helping me in order to gain information,” he said sardonically. 

“I’m merely earning my paycheck.” 

“Ethan, you’re way of earning your paycheck involves throwing a tennis ball in the air and drinking Orange Julius’s.” 

“That’s no way to answer a question.”

“True fact,” Shane muttered. 

“C’mon!  Talk to Ethan.  I won’t tell anybody.”   

Shane sighed.  “Ivy’s a girl Gabby and I have pre-cal with.” 

“Oh, a mathlete!  Your type, I guess?”

“Yeah, sure.  Whatever.” 

It was more than the fact that she liked math.  Ivy played piano and was on the school’s soccer team.  They’d spent hours in a local park one Saturday; she’d taught him how to dribble and pass without breaking anything, and, despite his horrid reflexes, he was an alright player. 

Shane thought of Ivy for most of their shift, and Ethan got through three chapters of Harry Potter. 

“I can’t wait now that Christmas is over!  Spring’ll be here soon!” Ethan said as they were leaving the store.  

“I can,” Shane disagreed.  “I like winter.” 

“C’mon.  Springs great.  You can uh… play football?”

Shane frowned.  “Soccer’s more my thing.” 

“Oh…  Well, uh you and Ivy can do pre-cal stuff in the park.  Romantic…” 

Shane had to smile.  Spring was sounding kinda nice. He’d bring his guitar to the park and she’d bring her soccer ball. 

“Christmas.  It makes way for spring,” Ethan said before walking off. 

Shane frowned.  Had Ethan Caple honestly just said something that, at least, sounded smart? 

"God bless us, everyone."

So what is Christmas?
Well, Christmas is a lot of things.
Christmas is when the radio stations play the Christmas carols before Thanksgiving's even begun, and it drives you and your mom insane. 
It's when the weather starts to get cold. It's when exams are over and done with. 
It's when we're on break. 
It's when the only thing your younger brother is worried about is what song to play, and if Santa got his letter, and that nineteen hours until he can open presents is far, far too long.
It's the cheesy remakes of A Christmas Carol and It's a Wonderful Life that seem to be required for every TV series. It's when you're watching those, even though you know you don't like them, and you know what'll happen.
It's when your family piles up in the car, and you drive around just to look at the Christmas lights.
It's when your mom has flour and dough and icing everywhere from using her new mixer to make cookies.
It's "Let it snow, baby...Let it reindeer."
It's trying to get your little brother to understand the joke in the title of the aforementioned Christmas CD.
It's having the most amazing pajamas to sleep in on Christmas Eve, even when the pants remind you of MC Hammer. Not that you mind. The PJs are awesome.
It's when you go shopping, because you have to find a gift that means something, shows you pay attention. Something personal. Something you know for sure they'll like.
And then it's smiling because they really do love the present, and you know you chose well.
It's that moment when you have to realize that Jesus really is the reason for the season. And you know that the phrase sounds corny, but it's the best you can think of.

Words so small for a meaning so tall....

Christmas is....

Chilling at the mall with my cousin on Christmas Eve.  

Spending hours on my friends' gifts.  

Staring at the front porch, waiting for my Dad's gift to get here.  

Listening to the Relient K Christmas album.  

Looking at all the presents, even if I'm too old for that.  

Making sausage balls while watching White Christmas, the best Christmas movie ever.  

Sleeping until noon during break to make up for a semester of sleep deprivation.  

Waiting for that new amp, 'cause I know Santa's bringing it.  

Getting four hours of sleep every night for a week because of homework and my churches Christmas play.  

Making chocolate chip pancakes for me and my brosef.   

Missing friends who live far, far away.  


Trying to find something to get my mom.  


Making Christmas playlists.  


Wondering why people can't act like they do on Christmas.  


Going to the candlelight service at church.  


Doing a heel click when I find that perfect gift.  


Watching Olive the Other Reindeer.


Laughing at The Office Christmas episodes.  


Wishing Santa was still magic.  


Drinking Chick-fa-la peppermint milkshakes.  


Missing Grandpa, 'cause it's our first year without him.  


Wondering what I'm getting, even if it is selfish.  


Remembering how much I love Christmas carols.  


Trying to find something to write for the Christmas challenges.  


Hoping to be out of school forever.  


Smiling at cheesy commercials.  


Calling my brosef a procrastiSanta.  


Loving Trans Siberian Orchestra.  


Seeing women shopping...while wearing a Santa suit.  


Wondering where we've put God in this season.  


Singing Merry Christmas Here's to Many More. 

This Baby Would One Day Save Me

Remembering Not to Forget

“Why is it so easy to forget who I am supposed to be?  Why is it so hard to remember why I celebrate this time of year?  Why do I cut you out of my Christmas?” I think.  “And I call myself a Christian…”

All year, hearing people talk about Christians bothers me.  They call us hypocrites and liars, and I always hope I don’t give them a reason to say things like that. 

I realized that I'm like every faker about Christmas.  The presents, the lights, the food…  It all stuns me and makes me forget that this is the season for the reason of my existing. 

I couldn’t even recognize that I was forgoing the God-part of life.  God had to send someone to give me a news flash.  Namely, Callie, my sister. 

“I’m coming!” I yelled as someone rang my doorbell repeatedly.  I pulled on a bathrobe and wrapped a towel around my hair before yanking my front door open. 

“Josie!” my favorite (and only) sister in the universe shrieked, throwing her arms around me.  “Josie-girl!” 

I laughed as we pulled apart.  “I should’ve known you were at my door.  No one else would’ve been that annoying!” 

“You would’ve done it, too!” she protested. 

“When?” I challenged.  “The fourth grade?”

“Last summer.”  Callie smirked. 

I shrugged upon recalling the mentioned incident.  “Momentary lapse of judgment.”

“Sure, sure…”

“I thought you weren’t getting in until this weekend.”  I grinned. 

“Well, you know me.  I love being with family during the holidays.  Enough to sacrifice my vacation days for it.”  She circled my living room slowly before looking at me pointedly. 

“What?”

“Isn’t it still customary to take a guest out to dinner?  Shoo!  Go get ready.  I’m hungry.”  Callie plopped down on my couch and pulled a book out of her purse, which she began to read. 

After quickly blow drying my hair and finding something to wear, I reentered my living room to find Callie balancing a pencil on her nose, book forgotten. 

“C’mon.”  I yanked the pencil of her face and used it to put my hair in a sloppy bun.  “Italian awaits.”  

There’s something wonderful about seeing a sister after months and months apart.  Gosh, I missed her.  I’d forgotten how funny she is, how much she talks, and how she always orders the most expensive thing on the menu. 

I was so happy as we walked across a street in the city’s historical district, giggling with my sister and admiring the Christmas lights. 

Like always, Callie decided to be entirely unpredictable.  She became serious spontaneous. 

“It’s so amazing.”  She smiled. 

“Hmm?”

“Christmas.  God sent his son to die for us.” 

And that hit me like a truck.  Not a small one.  A big honkin’ eighteen-wheeler. 

I sit here, hours after Callie has gone to sleep, pondering.  Why is it so easy for me to forget who this season is even all about?  Why is it easier for me to not have a passion for God than to wake up in the morning? 

I pledge that I will not forget my Savior next year.  I’ll celebrate the day that he was born to die the right way. 

Merry Christmas Eve!!! (Here's another story from a guest writer!)

"The Unconventional Christmas Gift" by Melissa!

I look through my closet trying to find something to wear because today is December 25, and that means today is the most anticipated family holiday of the year, for most people anyway. I feel like I’ve seen this all too many times before, so I move my eyes from my closet to the half open boxes lying around my floor full of the newest items in my wardrobe. “Santa” had done very well this year, yet it’s just not as exciting to get exactly what I want. I bend down to grab quite possibly the softest sweater ever created and pull it over my head as my hair starts sticking to ever surface within reach. (Don’t you just LOVE static?) 

“Lesley! Can you come help me finish cleaning before everyone get’s here?” 

“Yeah, Mom. I’ll be down in just a sec.” This is what my Christmas had become - a routine. I wish it could be more than that. Jesus is the reason for the season, right? Well, it hasn’t always been that way for me.

Uncle Allen is the last to arrive with twelve little gift bags filling his hands - one for each niece and nephew. I promptly shut the door behind him trapping in all the heat I can; Christmas in Massachusetts is brutal. As we enter the living room where all my family is waiting, I sneak a peak into the bags Uncle Allen has and see little envelopes in each one. I’m pretty sure of what these envelopes contain considering Uncle Allen’s new business has had the highest sales rates in Osterville this year. “Mom! Everyone’s here!” I yell across to the kitchen where she and the food await. I look over to my little brother Cayden and whisper, “The faster we eat; the faster we can open the presents, and I think Uncle Allen brought the perfect gift.” 

All the kids are shoveling in their food just trying to get enough before they can open presents. Although they finish in record time, the adults render their efforts futile. “We have to wait for everyone to finish eating before we can open presents,” my mother informed us all. A simultaneous sigh released from our lungs as if it had been practiced. I wait with very little patience but too much anticipation. Finally we gather round the Christmas tree with stacks of intricately wrapped boxes and bags stuffed with matching tissue piled high. My aunts and uncles along with my own parents begin grabbing the gifts with the names of their children on them when Uncle Allen announces, “I would like for the kids to open my presents last because I have some special planned this year.” 

“I knew it!” I mouth to my brother. “I wonder how much?” I ponder to myself. Once again our living room and its guests are submerged in wrapping paper, ribbon, bows, and all the other sorts of trash that come with Christmas time. 

Now we sit with Uncle Allen’s little gift bags in front of all twelve of us. “This may surprise you,” he states as we pull out the single piece of tissue separating us from the envelopes inside; they are plain white with no clue as to what they may contain. I eagerly rip the seal to find a folded piece of ordinary computer paper with Acts 20:35 printed across the top. Under that is a list of gifts I saw just last week in a newspaper article printed about the local Crisis Center. “Instead of buying you all presents this year, I decided that I would let you share in the idea expressed in Acts 20:35, ‘It is more blessed to give than receive.’ On your piece of paper is a list of toys that need to be donated to the Crisis Center in order for children in less fortunate families to have a good Christmas too. You can all pick one item, and I will donate it to the Crisis Center with your name on it. I wanted this Christmas to keep it’s focus on the reason we have Christmas at all. It’s not about the presents, it’s not about the decorations, it’s not about the delicious food we eat; the whole reason we celebrate on December 25 is because a baby was born over two-thousand years ago - a baby that would change the world.” 

Uncle Allen and I have become much closer this past year; especially since last New Year’s Eve he led me to accept Christ as my Lord, not just my fire insurance. I can’t even explain how much my life has changed. I still don’t have everything exactly figured out, but Christmas has become a time when I like to reflect on the one thing worth celebrating, my Savior. From His birth, Jesus knew that He was here so that He could one day hang on a cross - for you and for me. This year I realize how different I am particularly because I’m not even excited about the presents, well except for one. “I wonder what Uncle Allen will do this year,” I mention to my mom. 

“Honey, who knows. Who knows.”

Storytime with P. Meggy "Christmas Songs"

I sit at the old piano, loving the feel of the keys under the tips of my fingers as I play through the beginning of Pachelbel’s Canon, because the beginning is all I really know. Besides, playing through the same notes, to the point where it becomes rhythm and melodic and nearly systematic, that’s when my mind is the clearest, I think. At least, it’s when it’s easiest for me to sort things out. 

It’s Christmas Eve.

Woo.

So what?

My fingers hesitate on the black and ivory keys, and the melody falters. It’s Christmas Eve. Duh. We’re celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ.

Aren’t we?

I take this moment to flip through the book of Christmas music. The pages fall on ‘Silent Night.’ I look around at the decorations that cover my house. Nativity scenes, stars, mangers. So, everything is centered around Jesus, yet somehow we continue to forget. But I’m different. It’s true. Because of Jesus Christ, I’m a different person, a ‘new creation.’ I’ve been changed. So why do I sometimes forget, too?

I jump into the first verse of ‘Joy to the World’ and smile. It’s a cheerful sounding song, not so slow as the other ones I had been playing.

You know, this always happens. We get so excited for Jesus and for God, on Sundays, on holidays, on youth trips. It’s amazing. In fact, it’s the most awesome thing I’ve ever felt, it’s exhilarating and I love feeling like that. But then it all just kind of fades away, and I hang onto it as long as I can, but once it fades, I’m falling away again.

It’s kind of like New Year’s Eve, strangely enough. We make these ‘resolutions.’ We promise to try to change, to become a better person. But who really keeps their New Year’s resolutions?

My thoughts are interrupted by my mom, who pokes her head into the room. “Hey, are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“We’re going to the Christmas Eve service at your cousin’s church. Did you forget?”

“Now?”

“Um, yes.”

“Alright, just let me brush my hair and stuff.”

Whenever we go to my Aunt’s little church, it’s always for something special. Like Christmas, or the annual barbecue. The church thinks these of equal importance. But not in a bad way. Tonight was one of those services where you all hold candles, and the person next to you lights yours, and you light the next one. Tonight, we sang Christmas songs with only the light from the candles.

But before we began the preacher only had one thing to ask us. “Why do we celebrate Christmas? Why is there ‘Christ’ in the word?”

It seemed like another ‘Duh’ question to me. We celebrate because Jesus was born. Happy Birthday, Jesus.

Then we launched into ‘Angels We Have Heard on High.’ Hearing all those voices in the little chapel in the middle of nowhere is just amazing. The notes bounce off the walls, until there’s nothing left but voices. We sing mostly a cappella, if anything accompanies us, it’s the beautiful piano.

As we transition into yet another Christmas song, I feel absolutely thrilled. I love Christmas songs already, but this is beautiful. That’s when I start thinking about the preacher’s question. This is where Christ is, in Christmas, at church. He’s in everything, though, but it’s almost like you can feel it here. Then I’m lost in the feeling, and the songs, and the notes.

I smile at my parents once it’s over, and we’re walking out of the chapel to our car. “That was just awesome, don’t you think?”

They agreed, though I don’t think they thought it was quite as amazing as I did.

But that’s okay, because I also don’t think that this feeling will go away quite so quickly as it normally does.

Why?

Oh, yes, because I realized something. Yes, we celebrate the day Jesus was born. But there’s a little more to it. We celebrate the day Jesus was born, because it was when He stepped down from heaven, and became human. So He could die.

So He could save my life.

I'll be home for Christmas...

So, I've decided to take a moment, and talk about the last story I wrote.
I was thinking about the song "I'll be home for Christmas." (Obviously, the title of this post.) 
But then I heard that one Christmas song, where the kid is basically singing their letter to Santa, asking to 'bring him home.'
I have a friend who's been really upset (or rather, as upset as this person can get. She's a generally happy person.) because one of her really close friends was sent off, just a few weeks ago. He was leaving right before Christmas and everything. I have a cousin (kind of a cousin; a relative) who we send chips to every once in a while. He got to be home for Christmas a year or so ago.
And then I remembered this video that I saw on facebook about this time last year. (Sure, it has a verse from the Book of Mormon in it, and I'm not a Mormon, but that isn't the point of it) I cried last time I saw it, I cried this time too.
I was thinking mostly about two clips in this mash up, one at about 7:00 (with the little girl in red) and 8:10 (the two girls in pink and white) if you want to see my specific inspiration.
So I've been watching this videos.
And I'm sad for the soldiers who won't be coming home for Christmas. I'm happy for those who will see their family again.
But I pray for all of our military for sacrificing and serving us and our country. Thank you.
~P. Megz OUT!!!

Storytime with P. Meggy "The Biggest Present"

"Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetie?" I said, as I handed D.J. another cloth ornament to hang. There would be nothing breakable on our little tree this year. I sighed, Danny and I had always loved the little glass ones. Love the little glass ones. It's not past tense. At least, not yet.
"Where's Daddy?" He asked, as he examined the little sock monkey on its hook.
 "He's off saving the world, I guess."
"Will he be home for Christmas? which is tomorrow?"
"Honey, I know it's tomorrow." I smiled at him, "I don't think he'll be home tomorrow, D.J., but maybe someday soon."
"Oh." He said, pondering for a moment as he hung the little monkey. "Is Daddy a superhero? Like Batman?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "No. Daddy's a marine."
"Oh....are marines kind of like superheroes?"
I was stumped by this question. It was kind of like the ones all little kids ask. 'Why is the sky blue?' I had to think about it for a minute. "Yes, sweetie, I guess marines kind of are like superheroes..."
"Mommy, can you make some cookies so we can give some to Santa?"
"And so you can eat one, too, I'm sure." The little boy giggled, and I had to smile again, I love my son with all my heart. I just wish I could do everything for him..."You keep hanging up these ornaments, and I'll get them started."
When I came back, to ask D.J. if he wanted to lick the spoon, I found him gone from the living room; the little pile of ornaments still sat underneath the tree, waiting to be hung up.
"D.J.?" I called, poking my head in his room.
He sat at the little desk his grandfather, my father-in-law, had made him not so long ago, with a crayon and a sheet of computer paper. "I'm writing a letter to Santa." He explained.
"Oh, really?" I said, crouching down so I could be about eye level with him. "Can I see?"
"No." He said, covering the paper with his hands. "It's for Santa to read."
"Well, you know, it is Christmas Eve, I don't know if Santa'll get it in time to get everything on your list."
"That's okay. I just asked for one thing."
"Just one?"
"Yes, Mommy, just one."
Later that night, after I had tucked him into bed, I read his letter. He had asked Santa to bring Daddy home so he and Mommy could have him for Christmas. I cried on Christmas Eve, because Santa couldn't get what D.J. wanted.
The next morning, I woke up to D.J. bouncing up and down on my bed, singing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" But the only words he could remember were 'Merry Christmas.'
"Merry Christmas, Mommy!!!"
"Merry Christmas, D.J."
"Can we open presents now? There's a really big one from Santa! I bet it's the biggest, most bestest present ever!"
"I bet it is." I said, thinking it was either the Transformers set or the Thomas the Tank Engine railroad I had gotten him. "We can open presents, just let me get some coffee, okay, sweetie?"
"Okay..." He said, looking a little down. However, that changed. As soon as I walked into the kitchen, he was running back and forth between there and the living room, excitedly asking if the coffee was ready yet. "I want to open the big one first, Mommy! Are you ready yet?"
"I'm coming, D.J. go ahead and start opening the big one, I'll be there in a sec."
"Yay!"
I heard him start tearing off the wrapping paper, and I smiled, and took the coffee with me into the living room. 
I nearly dropped the mug.
It wasn't a Transformer.
"Mommy, Santa did get my letter!!!"
My marine was home for Christmas.

It's so FLUFFY I could die!!!!!!!!!!

Let Your Love Be Strong

Joyce Arner snapped her phone shut angrily, muttering something unintelligible about crappy phones make puppies cry.  Ten-year-old Austin sat nearby, playing his DS, watching TV, and listening to Tiffany’s iPod, against her wishes, of course.  Mr. Jacob Arner was in the kitchen baking cookies, a job held by Mrs. Arner until her untimely death ten months previously. 

Tiffany was ten miles away, trying to convince her boyfriend Nolan that he did not want to meet her family before he went home until the next semester. 

“I want to meet your family, for better or for worse,” Nolan said. 

Tiffany crossed her arms, ready for an argument.  “Trust me, you don’t.  Dad will grill you for two hours and then judge that you’re not good enough for me.  Joyce will text the entire time or try to impress you with the fact that she dated three guys at once and got away with nothing but a bad reputation.  Austin will just sit there and maybe punch you in the face.  It’ll be better for both of us if we just go somewhere else tonight,” she finished wearily. 

“I thought you told your dad that you’d be home for dinner.”  Nolan frowned, uneasy about his girlfriend skipping out on her family. 

Tiffany shrugged.  “It’s not like it’ll be that different.  I’m busy enough with work that we don’t eat together.  It won’t be the first time my place at the table will be empty.” 

“Don’t you want to be around your family during the holidays?” Nolan queried, clearly asking the wrong question. 

Tiffany’s grip on his hand tightened slightly.  “No!” she answered defiantly. 

Nolan’s frown deepened as he quickly pulled over his ancient sedan.  “Tell me why not,” he said as he put the car in park. 

She sighed heavily, obviously not at all wanting to reach this topic. Not now, not ever.  “My family, they just haven’t been the same since Mom died.” 

“Isn’t that expected, though?  We lost my dad when I was twelve.  Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him like crazy.” 

“It’s not like that,” Tiffany exclaimed, frustrated.  “My dad tries to be a father and a mother.  Joyce is with a different guy every week because she feels alone.  Austin thinks he has to be strong and not care, but he’s hurting as much as the rest of us.” 

“What about you?” he asked gently. 

“What about me?” she echoed. 

“How are you dealing?  Avoiding memories?  Avoiding them?”  After his father died, he had reached out to his two older sisters, not pushed them away. 

“I’m trying to move one,” Tiffany snapped, “and they aren’t.  We aren’t really working together all that well.” 

“How about this?”  Nolan suggested.  “We go back to your house and, if it doesn't go at all well, we never see them again.” 

“Who judges how well it goes?” Tiffany challenged. 

He hesitated.  “You.”

“Fine.”  She shrugged, satisfied. 

Nolan got back on the road and prayed to God that the evening would go well. 

Little did he know, five miles away, Jacob Arner was praying the same thing.  Every day, he felt like he was losing his little girl more and more.  Sometimes, he had the strange feeling that every time was his last to win her back. 

“Jo-Jo!  Austin!” he called to the living room. 

With a few groans and, though he couldn’t see them, grimaces, his two youngest children were in the kitchen. 

“Can you guys help me out with all the last minute stuff?”

Austin just shrugged, having adopted a virtually perpetual silence. 

“I guess,” Joyce sassed.  Every day he wondered where his wife Maggie’s sweet daughter had gone.  Who was this reckless risk-taker that had inhabited his once cautious daughter?

“Okay, Joyce, set the table.  Austin, you get the bread out of the oven and put the cookies in.” 

Again, a shrug and a sass. 

Jacob stirred the spaghetti sauce, content with the looks of it, before placing the pot next to a bowl containing Tiff’s favorite angel hair pasta.  After slicing the bread and getting the baked kale out of the oven, he watched his children. 

For once, Jo-Jo’s phone was nowhere to be seen, and he saw just how gloomy she’d come to look, despite the bright clothes and makeup.  She was trying to be just like those girls wearing the skimpy outfits on the covers of the magazines she was always reading. 

Austin concentrated on getting the perfect amount of ice in each cup and fixing each place setting so the utensils and plate were equidistant.  His perfectionism had brought his grades up the past few months, but Jacob could tell he was simply trying to distract himself. 

And Tiff.  Jacob sighed as he thought about his oldest kid.  She was once so happy and energetic but, after Maggie’s death, had seemed to just exist.  Then she met this Nolan character and started smiling.  He’d hated her having a boyfriend since some jerk had broken her heart three years previously, but he had to admit that any guy who made her laugh like she did on the phone with him was obviously special. 

Jacob turned his head quickly enough that it popped in several places.  He heard a door being opened and shut and a hysterical laugh, one he felt like  he’d maybe heard, sound.  Shocked, he realized it was Tiff’s laugh. 

She entered the kitchen holding some guy’s hand tightly in her own.  He was a tall guy, real tall and skinny, with darkish hair and tan skin. 

“Daddy,” Tiff said.  “This is Nolan.”

They shook hands and Nolan greeted him respectfully.  “It’s good to meet you Mr. Arner.” 

Jacob smiled slightly.  “No need to be so formal.  Call me Jacob.” 

If he hadn’t been looking for it, Jacob would’ve missed the look of shock that crossed his daughter’s face; he’d never been this easygoing with her boyfriends she’d brought home. 

It touched his heart that Nolan didn’t just climb in his shell or go straight for the food.  He went over to Austin, who had his PSP in his hands, and sat by him. 

“So Tiffany tells me that you’re pretty good with math,” Nolan said, causing Austin’s head to shoot up.  It was strange how he talked to Austin, like he was addressing someone his age rather than someone almost a decade younger. 

He nodded and put down his game. 

“I’m studying almost all math right now at University of Michigan.  Do you know what you wanna study in college?” Nolan asked. 

Austin cleared his throat.  “Maybe something like that.” 

“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” 

His son frowned for a minute, thinking.  “Maybe a scientist or a teacher.  What are you gonna do?” 

Nolan laughed for a minute, bringing a seldom-heard sound to the room.  “At this point, I don’t know.  I wanna teach in a college someday, but who knows?” 

Jacob, for once, wasn’t bothered by the fact that a man his daughter might potentially married had no plan for his life.  When he saw the way Nolan listened to Jo-Jo talk about Twilight and actually respond or smile at Tiff spontaneously or ask Austin what he liked best about science, he knew that this on was alright.

 Maybe he’d be around for a while, maybe he wouldn’t.  All he knew was that he saw a sparkle in his daughter’s eyes that he hadn’t seen in almost a year.  Tiff was learning to love again and that was what mattered.