Chapter 13
Rachel
“Mommy, Mommy, look. Santa has been here!”
My bright-eyed boy points his chubby finger toward our Christmas tree, the one Sam helped pick out from a place down south at the end of November.
It’s a family tradition for all of us to be together and pick out the tree.
Luckily with Dad and two brothers, Mom and I don’t have to do any of the chopping.
My twin brothers, Brandon and Thomas, made the drive up from Caltech, and after meeting for lunch, we headed to a sprawling Christmas farm to find the perfect tree.
Thomas carried Sam on his shoulders, giving him the best view.
From up high Sam was able to point out the perfect tree for the family.
Sam could barely contain his excitement when we got home, eager to decorate.
And I couldn’t wait to fix the ornaments once he was fast asleep.
“Oh, my, he has. Quick, you better go wake up Nanny and Pop and let them know.”
I watch his little body race off toward their bedroom, knowing full well he's about to do a flying leap straight into the middle of them.
I smile to myself as I step into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle.
It's the crack of dawn, and there was never any hope of convincing an overly excited child to go back to sleep on Christmas morning.
I pull out five mugs, letting the quiet hum of the kitchen settle around me, as I reach for my phone.
Me: Merry Christmas x
Randy: Good God, what is the time?
Me: Sam is very excited. lol
Randy: I bet he is super excited. Merry Christmas, beautiful! Let me know if he likes his present.
Me: I already know he will. Thank you again for getting him something, it means a lot.
Randy: Miss u x
Me: Miss you too x
“Mom! Mom! Can I open my presents now!”
“Where are your uncles?” I yell back as he hovers over the presents.
“I’ll check!” he yells, racing back down the hallway.
I pour the liquid gold into the mugs, knowing this will be the first of many today.
By midday, the house will be brimming with family, the air thick with laughter, conversation, and the scent of holiday meals.
I won’t get a moment to slow down until late in the evening, when the last goodbyes are said, and the house settles again.
Carefully, I carry out the mugs, passing them to my parents, wrapping them in Christmas hugs before heading back for the others.
“They are coming!” Sam shouts, leading Brandon by the hand and dragging him eagerly to the tree. “Look, Brandon! Santa came!”
“He sure did, bud,” my brother replies, his voice thick with sleep, eyes barely open as he trails behind my son.
My brothers had to head home after our tree-shopping expedition, only making it back yesterday to spend the next few days with us before they leave again.
Sam was beside himself with excitement, the wait had felt endless for a four-year-old.
Brandon hugs me, then sinks onto the carpet in front of the tree, pulling Sam into his lap.
I carefully pass him his coffee just as Thomas steps into the room, wrapping me in a hug and wishing me a Merry Christmas before I hand him his own.
Knowing very well everyone is up super-duper early only because of my son.
“Is the sun even up?” Thomas asks, looking out the living room bay window.
“I’m actually enjoying this,” my dad says. “You kids were just the same, dragging us out of bed right at dawn.”
“Karma, coming back around.” My mom smiles.
“Okay, you can open them now,” I say, noticing Sam has been watching me intensely for the past few moments.
“Yay,” he screams, picking out a present and eagerly ripping off the wrapping. “Oh, wow, Mommy! Look, it’s a football and it has signatures on it!”
My dad looks at Sam in surprise. “Let me see that, Sam.”
“Look, Pop it has signatures!” He runs over, his little fingers pointing at the black markings.
It wasn’t a hard guess when Randy gave me the wrapped present shaped like a football, but I didn’t think he would get every Raptor to sign it.
My dad glances at me, brows lifting in quiet surprise. “Where did you get this?” My dad follows football religiously, so I know he understands just how sought-after something like this would be
I lift my shoulders casually, wrapping my lips over the rim of my mug. “Must have been Santa.”
“Yeah, Pop it’s from Santa,” Sam agrees, racing back to the tree to find another present.
“Pass it over,” Brandon says to Dad.
Dad tosses him the ball and Brandon examines the gift.
“That’s so cool, I want one!” he says, looking to me.
I settle onto the carpet with my coffee, smiling over the rim, keeping my secrets close—for now.