5. Christmas Day
CHRISTMAS DAY
Christmas Day has dawned, and the first thing I see as I flutter my eyes open is the sight I’ve been dreaming of. Reid, laying right next to me. The blanket falls to his waist, revealing his bare, peaceful chest, rising and falling gently with each soft breath.
I can’t think of a moment more perfect than waking up to this sight, a moment I hope to relive every day. I give myself a few minutes to admire him, his serene expression, the faint smile on his lips. Suddenly, his lips curve into a smirk.
“I can feel you watching me,” he teases. “Do you like what you see?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice.
I can’t help but smile. “I love what I see,” I admit.
Rising to a sitting position, he gives me a quick, tender kiss. “Good, because this all belongs to you.”
His words send a rush of warmth through me. He then grabs me by the back of my neck, pulls me closer, and gives me a soul-searing kiss. “Just as yours belongs to me,” he murmurs against my lips, leaving me breathless.
As Reid’s arm shifts, his hand comes to rest on my leg. With a gentle pat, he looks at me, his eyes crinkling in a heartwarming smile.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, his voice raspy from sleep. “Merry Christmas.” His words are a velvety balm, wrapping me in warmth and comfort, igniting a glowing happiness deep within me. I can’t help but return his smile, feeling my heart flutter at his endearing gesture.
“Good morning, handsome,” I reply, my voice soft. “Merry Christmas to you too.”
With a shared smile, we push back the covers and climb out of bed.
The frosty morning air hits my skin, causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end.
Reid pulls on a shirt and moves towards the kitchen to prepare breakfast. I watch him, my heart swelling with a feeling of pure and utter contentment.
I turn my attention to the other room, where little Liam is peacefully sleeping.
I walk over and gently open the door, peering inside.
His chest rises and falls rhythmically, a serene expression on his angelic face.
I can’t help but beam at the vision of our child, made from our love, sleeping so peacefully.
The sight of him fills my heart with a joy so profound that it’s nearly overwhelming. As I stand there, watching our son sleep, I realize that this is our first official Christmas as a family. Tears prick at my eyes at the thought.
We may not have an abundance of material possessions, but we have each other, and that’s more than enough. We are a family, bound not by riches or commodities, but by love, and that’s all that matters.
My heart feels so full, so complete, that I fear it might burst. I can’t help but feel blessed, incredibly blessed for what we have. This may be our humble beginning, but it’s our beginning, and it’s perfect in every way.
As I make my way down the hall towards the comforting aroma wafting from the kitchen, my senses are filled with the unmistakable ambience of Christmas. Our home is alive with the soft hum of holiday melodies playing in the background - songs of cheer, love, and hope.
Glittering fairy lights twinkle like tiny stars from every corner, casting a warm, golden hue that dances on the walls.
The scent of pine from the beautifully adorned Christmas tree mixes delightfully with the aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg, creating a comforting fragrance that stirs fond memories of Christmases past.
Upon reaching the kitchen, I see Reid engrossed in preparing breakfast. The sight of him brings a contented smile to my face. Quietly, I walk up to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. His shirt feels warm, homely against my skin.
I press a soft kiss on the middle of his back, feeling him stiffen for a moment at the unexpected contact before he relaxes into my embrace.
As I cling to him, Reid turns to look at me over his shoulder, a warmth radiating from his hazel eyes that causes my heart to flutter.
He continues to stir the pot on the stove, his movements graceful and relaxed.
“So, what’s the plan for the day?” he asks, his voice as smooth as silk.
Resting my chin on my arm that’s propped up on the counter, I glance at the clock on the wall.
“Well, it’s still early, so I thought we could enjoy our little Christmas celebration as a family until lunchtime,” I propose, my gaze shifting back to Reid. “Then we could make our way over to our parents’ houses in the afternoon.”
Reid nods in agreement before suggesting, “How about we head to my parents’ house first? We can spend a couple of hours there and then head over to your mom’s house.”
I reflect on his suggestion, finding the idea appealing. “Sounds like a plan,” I say, trying to suppress a yawn. “We can wrap up our little celebration at my mom’s place and then return home.”
“Perfect,” he replies, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before turning his attention back to the breakfast he is making.
The comfort of the morning envelops us again, filled with the sounds of sizzling food and soft Christmas music, and the promise of a day filled with love and family. Reid and I settle down at the kitchen table, the aroma of freshly cooked breakfast filling the air.
Just as our meal is taking off, a soft, familiar cry echoes from the nursery.
Reid rises from his seat, disappearing into the other room before returning with our little bundle of joy, Liam.
He grabs a bag of defrosted breastmilk from the fridge and while he feeds Liam. I can relax and savor my breakfast.
Once we’ve finished eating, Liam included, we move towards our small, cozy living room. The Christmas tree, beautifully adorned with twinkling lights and festive ornaments, stands in the corner, its base concealed by an array of presents. With Liam cradled in my arms, we sit down to open his gifts.
Since he’s too young to unwrap them himself, I carefully peel away the wrapping paper, animating my expressions and coo at him to make the experience more engaging. Reid, the ever-present documentarian, clicks away on his camera, capturing this precious moment.
The first gift we open is a soft, plush teddy bear, its fur a warm honey brown. Liam’s eyes light up at the sight, his tiny fingers reaching out to touch the soft material. The next gift reveals a colorful, textured teething ring, perfect to soothe his tender gums.
We then unwrap a set of soft, cloth books, each page hosting a different texture and vibrant colors to stimulate his developing senses.
Finally, there’s a musical mobile with gentle, hanging toys that can attach to his crib, the melody it plays soft and comforting.
Despite the simplicity of these gifts, each one is a testament to the love that surrounds our son, a love that needs no grand gestures or expensive presents to prove its worth.
With the baby gifts unwrapped, it’s time for Reid and me to exchange ours. This year, our presents were last minute. We hadn’t expected being together, but fate had other plans. The gifts might be simple, but they carry a wealth of sentiment.
Money is tight for us, but it’s not the cost of the gift that matters, it’s the thought that counts. Reid hands me a delicately wrapped package, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. I carefully peel back the wrapping paper to reveal a beautifully bound journal, and I can’t help but gasp.
I run my fingers over the embossed cover, feeling the grooves of the intricate design. Writing has always been a passion of mine, and Reid never failed to support it. This gift is not just a journal; it’s a canvas for my thoughts, my dreams, my fears.
I look up at Reid, my heart swelling with gratitude. “Reid, this is perfect,” I tell him, cradling the journal close to my chest. “Writing is a part of me, and this... this means more than words can express. Thank you.”
His face softens, his eyes sparkling with a tenderness that makes my heart flutter.
“I’m glad you love it, Amelia. You’ve been there for me, for us,” he gestures towards Liam, sleeping peacefully in my arms, “through it all. Watching you write, seeing you pour your heart and soul into your words... it’s beautiful.
I wanted to give you something that appreciates and supports that. ”
Now it’s my turn to give Reid his gift. “And this, Reid, is for you,” I say, gazing into his eyes. “I know how much you love antiques, the histories they carry... and I thought this was a perfect match for you.”
I hand him a small rectangular package. As he unwraps it, his eyes light up with delight.
It’s a vintage pocket watch, its surface worn, but still gleaming.
Reid has always had a fascination with antique items; he loved the stories they told, the history they held.
The watch may not be brand new, but it’s filled with character and charm, just like him.
His eyes widen with surprise and delight as he delicately turns the watch over in his hands.
“Amelia, this... this is beautiful. Thank you, love.” His voice is filled with emotion as he looks up at me, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“Spending this Christmas with you, with our little Liam... it’s more than I could have ever hoped for. ”
I reach out and entwine my fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
“I feel the same way, Reid,” I tell him, my voice barely more than a whisper.
“Our celebration may be small, our gifts simple... but I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.
This is our Christmas, our family... and it’s perfect just the way it is. ”