Page 46 of Naughty-ish

The stockings. They’re draped over the back of a chair waiting for me to figure out how and where to hang them.

Taking a deep breath, my head hangs. “Baby, this is our home now. Our house for the three of us, Nash, you, and me.” I sternly add, “And Santa will not break into our house. He’s resourceful, not a deviant.”

“What’s resourceful mean?” Her innocent little eyes look up at me.

“It means, he’ll find a safe, secure way to bring you presents, my good girl.” I tap her nose.

“What’s deviant mean?”

Your father and his new girlfriend. “A bad person. And we both know Santa is a good man.”

Eloise watches me, questions still in her eyes. I’m not ready for her to stop believing in the man in red or thinking the world is full of deviants, either breaking into homes or wrecking them with adultery.

“Santa is going to love the cookies you made for him today.”

“His belly is going to be so full after he goes from house to house to house.” A twinkle returns to her eyes. “I hope Elfie doesn’t steal any cookies tonight.”

Oh boy, now I’ll have to pretend the elf nibbled a cookie and left a little mess of crumbs despite his theft. Breaking in Santas. Cookie stealing elves. What’s next on the list? Bad-boy next-door neighbors?

“I’ll seal them all up tight. And tomorrow night we can deliver some to the neighbors.”

“Can we sing at their front doors, like Carol does?”

I laugh. “You mean, carolers. And I’ll think about it.” I’m not known for my ability to carry a tune.

“I need to practice for the musical on Thursday.” Her expression shifts to concentration and a sprinkle of too-serious for an eight-year-old.

“You’re going to be great. Now, time to sleep, so sugar plum fairies can dance in your head.”

She lifts her arms and I lean down, wrapping her in another hug, holding on a little longer myself because I don’t want her to grow up yet.

+ + +

In the darkness of my house, I sit before my Christmas tree staring at the low lights, thinking about the past year. Mitch and Paige. What Paige said. Eloise and Nash and the changes we’ve had to make this year. Home.

This house is our home now, and as time has passed, I find I don’t miss the too-large space in the suburbs. Our city home has character and charm, even if the closets are a bit small. Our street is friendly without being nosy, and my next-door neighbor is wonderful.

I don’t question if Nick and I will have a repeat of what we did. For now, I revel in gratitude for making love with him.

And having my children snug in their beds.

And a roof over our heads with a house I pay for from the paycheck I earn for the work that I do.

Nick’s words come back to me, though. Doing something or making something are both vocations. Being physical or creative are both strengths. And I wasn’t certain I was using all of mine.

My phone buzzes beside me on the couch and I lift it to read the message.

You left your tree on.

Nosy little neighbor next door. I’m still up.

Nick left earlier, with another fireman ‘thing’ as his reason. He was playing Santa at a children’s hospital.

Suddenly, my phone rings.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, his voice warm like cinnamon. “Why are you still awake?”