Epilogue #2
Our third course was appetizers. Little finger foods like crostini with things I've never even heard of, spreads and jams both warm and cold, passed around on a silver serving tray.
I hardly touch them, taking one to try before passing on the plate to Noah, trying to save room for the turkey that has been calling my name since I walked into the house and smelled the savoury masterpiece wafting through the air.
Finally, we get to the entrée, where Noah's dad has carved the turkey with a large knife, not that he needs it.
The turkey falls apart, golden on the outside, juicy and perfect on the inside.
There are potatoes and turnips and carrots and brussel sprouts and rolls and so much food it never ends.
Just when I think we're done, there's dessert.
Pies of all kinds that I can't imagine being cooked in this kitchen, because they're too delicate and pretty and delicious.
But Noah talks of Susan's homemade crust like it's a work of art, talking about how he's missed this.
Sierra echoes the sentiment. It's then I realize that this is the first family dinner they have shared with their parents in years.
I wonder how many holidays they've spent alone because of the divide between their parents and them.
When I feel like I am about to positively burst, everyone helps clear the table and dish leftovers into take home containers for the entire family.
Michael dishes out spiked eggnog to anyone who wants some.
I don't partake, neither does Noah, and Sienna can't while she's nursing Aelia, so Ricardo withholds, but everyone else sips theirs with hums of appreciation.
The others sip non-spiked eggnog, while I opt for water.
We all relax and share stories of Christmases past, some of us take up residence on the floor while others fill the couches, and I feel my body growing heavy from the comfort of the nearby fireplace crackling.
My head rests on Noah's thigh who sits behind me on the couch beside his mother after I insisted the floor was a perfectly fine place for me to settle.
We sit by the light of the Christmas tree, one bedazzled with far too many bobbles and bows for my taste, and it's nice to feel this content.
I feel my eyes slipping shut when I hear, "Well then. Should we get our coats on?" It's Susan who says it with a clap, a smile on her face.
"Coats? Where are we going?" I say, blinking through a yawn. Noah chuckles, touching my cheek.
"It's always a tradition in our house to do the local light walk on Christmas night. We always play a game and take turns rating the house displays." Sienna answers my question, smiling and preparing Aelia for the weather in a big baby snowsuit.
"Well, that sounds fun! Count me in."
Noah helps me into my red wool pea coat.
I do up the black buttons and put on my matching red earmuffs with the 1940s style tie in the center of the band.
Noah dresses Birdie in her winter coat and booties, and perfectly straightens her Christmas bow on her head.
I pull on my white mittens and let Noah take my hand, and the whole family is off on the final adventure of the evening to see the Christmas lights.
The walk is nice; the wind died off earlier, and the light snowfall sprinkling down meant the weather was actually quite warm, falling in tiny little puffs of perfect shimmers in the light grey night sky from the snow clouds.
Sienna rates a house an eight out of ten for its candy cane roof and a snowman spectacular on their front lawn, and her mother gives a nine to the house with a single string of lights with a single figure of that classic green menace who hates Christmas pulling the lights away from the house in an attempt to steal them.
We walk up and around the block, looping through the local park that has jazzed up its bare trees with Christmas lights too.
Franny takes Bennie and Birdie to chase squirrels, my mother follows behind her with a camera on her fur-grandchildren.
Noah’s family takes a trip down memory lane.
Noah and I break away from the crowd, my hand in his, my other hand holding his arm casually.
I lean against him, sighing in content as the white glow of whimsy lights up the night sky and the snow falling around us.
A little line of luminary lanterns light the path for us, each with its own Christmas wish written on it.
"This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing this with me," I say softly, looking up at Noah, who I realize is beaming back at me.
"Thank you for wanting to be here."
Near the end of the path, I notice more and more luminaries.
Their bright yellow shines and takes my breath away, a gentle glow in comparison to the bright colours of the lights in the night sky.
As we get closer, that's when I notice that the luminaries are intentionally there, that they're taking form into words.
First I see the M's, then the E, and then when we're standing right near it, I can read it clearly as plain as day surrounded by a heart of:
MARRY ME?
I squeeze Noah's arm tightly in excitement, "Oh, Noah, look! Someone's getting engaged tonight!"
"They are." He agrees.