Epilogue
Christmas Morning
kelsey
The counters were littered with dirty dinner dishes and a healthy dusting of cocoa powder and sugar.
Before, I would have been elbow deep in suds or wiping down every sticky surface.
I would have tuned out the conversations happening around me, occasionally asking someone to repeat a question when it was directed at me, but mostly stuck checking items off my mental to-do list.
Now, I sat with my feet tucked up under me, wearing one of Teddy’s Metallica shirts from the nineties and a pair of his sweatpants I’d had to roll three times at the waist, feeling more content than I had in years.
No frantic last-minute wrapping
No matching Christmas pajamas.
No staging the living room for a Martha Stewart-worthy photoshoot as if a bunch of strangers on the internet really cared what my tree looked like.
Just three women gathered around a kitchen table, drinking spiked hot chocolate that Sky had topped with an ungodly amount of whipped cream and marshmallows.
“So then Cali asks Addie if she wants to see the sunrise from the summit,” Sky said, pushing up the sleeves of an oversized bright orange hoodie with the phrase “Send Noods” above a cartoon cat eating a bowl of ramen that she’d paired with camo joggers. “And she’s all, ‘Oh, I don’t do mornings.’”
“Um, because I don’t?” Addie retorted, making a show of rubbing her nose with her middle finger. Unlike her sister, she’d chosen a thermal-pajama set in all black, her signature color.
“I’m just saying, if a hot mountain man with opinions about Russian literature wanted to show me a sunrise—”
“Please!” Addie interjected with a snort. “He’s a trust fund kid who owns a ski resort and cosplays as a biker to seem edgy.”
I wrapped both hands around my mug, letting the warmth seep into my palms while listening to the girls playfully bicker back and forth.
“He looked so disappointed, Mom,” Sky added, pushing her lips out in an exaggerated pout. “Like a golden retriever who’d been told there would be no walkies.”
“Well, other than when she was a newborn, your sister’s never been much of a morning person. God help any man who gets in the way of her sleep.”
Addie clinked her mug against mine in agreement. “Hear, hear.”
“Speaking of newborns…” Sky tapped her phone screen before sighing. “Come on, baby Riggs. We’d like to go to sleep sometime tonight.”
Dane had texted just after seven o’clock to let us know that Piper’s water had broken in the middle of Christmas Eve dinner and that they were on their way to the hospital.
I scrolled through the updates, checking the timestamps to gauge her progress. “Let’s see. She was dilated to a six a couple of hours ago, so it could be any time now. Second babies don’t typically take as long as first ones.”
“Or could be hours still,” Addie said, ever the practical one.
“Poor Piper,” Sky murmured, wincing. “I can’t even imagine.”
“It’s totally worth it, though,” I said automatically, before pausing to reconsider.
Because was it? The question felt blasphemous, the kind of thing Good Mothers weren’t supposed to think, let alone say out loud.
The girls both looked at me, waiting for me to finish the thought.
“I mean, obviously it’s worth it,” I added. “But the process itself? Labor and delivery, and the complete destruction of your pelvic floor? That part’s awful, and anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something.”
“Yeah, no thanks. I like my coochie intact,” Sky said with the kind of dramatic disdain only a twenty-two-year-old could muster.
“And that’s why you’ve gotta avoid those golden retriever ski bum mountain gods,” I deadpanned, causing her to spit out her hot chocolate in shock.
“Jesus, Mom! Warn a girl next time!”
Addie passed her a handful of napkins with a snort.
This was new territory for us—this easy banter, this comfort with saying things that weren’t perfectly curated.
Before, I would have given them the sanitized version. Would have told them that every moment of pain had been transcendent, that I’d never felt more connected to the universe than when I was pushing a human being out of my body.
Which was utter bullshit.
I’d felt connected to an epidural and a very sincere desire never to do it again.
“How did Dad do when you were in labor?” Addie asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.
I laughed, remembering Teddy pacing the hospital room like a caged animal.
“With your birth, he lost his shit when the anesthesiologist had trouble with the epidural and almost got himself thrown out for creatively describing exactly how he’d end him if he didn’t get it on the second try.
Your grandfather had to physically remove him from the room. ”
Sky snorted at the visual before squirting a mountain of whipped cream directly into her mouth.
“Took Poppy and three of the guys from the club to convince him that threatening medical staff wasn’t gonna make the process go any faster.
” I smiled at the memory, remembering how mature we thought we were at twenty-six and twenty-eight and how completely unprepared we were for what parenthood would mean.
“But he came back, right?” Addie asked with a concerned expression.
A soft smile tugged at my lips. “Didn’t leave my side after that. Held my hand and told me I was doing great, even when I was definitely not doing great.”
We fell into comfortable silence, the only sounds the occasional notification from their phones and the steady thump of Teddy splitting logs out back for the fire.
Sky finished sending a text before leaning back in her chair. “So, what’s the plan, Mom?”
I finished swallowing the boozy chocolate in my mouth before asking, “For what, Christmas Day?”
“No, with you moving in with Dad,” Addie answered.
“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 Transitions handles 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?”