2
1005 Words
The night grew deeper, and with it, the comfortable warmth of the house seemed to intensify. The smell of cinnamon and pine wrapped around me like an old, cherished blanket, soft and familiar. Zoe had long since settled into her own world, sitting by the fire with her coloring book as my mom continued to prepare a Christmas dinner that seemed to rival the grandeur of any holiday spread I’d ever seen.
“You know,” Ryan said suddenly, breaking the silence, “you never told me why you picked this time of year to come back. I thought for sure you’d wait until spring, when things are easier.”
I froze for a moment, my fingers tightening around the rim of my mug. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about that—about the timing, about the pressure of returning home at Christmastime. But there was something about being here in this moment, with my family surrounding me, that made it feel like this was exactly what I needed. Even if it was raw, even if I didn’t have all the answers.
“I needed the space,” I finally said, my voice quiet, not wanting to go into details. “I needed to find… something. Maybe peace. Or clarity. I don’t know. I just couldn’t stay in the city any longer.”
Ryan’s gaze softened. “Yeah, I get that. I’ve seen you in a pretty dark place these last few months.” He paused, eyes flicking over to Zoe, who had since started to quietly hum along with the Christmas music playing in the background. “But you’re home now. And that’s what matters. Zoe’s happy. You’re here. Maybe it’s time to let things heal.”
I nodded, though his words settled somewhere in my chest, uneasy and uncertain. I’d come back, yes. But there were parts of me, parts I’d locked away, that hadn’t healed. The divorce, the failed attempts at finding normalcy again—it was all still there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting to bubble up at the wrong moment.
But for now, I could pretend. I could bury those feelings under the warmth of the fire and the comfort of being with family. For tonight, at least, I could pretend that everything was okay.
“I’m glad you’re here, Addie,” Ryan said quietly, as if sensing the thoughts that had drifted into my mind. “It’s been too long. We’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
Zoe’s voice interrupted, high-pitched and full of excitement. “Mommy! Can we go outside and make snow angels?”
I blinked, looking over at her with a smile. The idea of stepping back into the cold, of feeling the crunch of snow beneath my boots again, was oddly inviting. It was a break from the heaviness of everything else, a chance to simply be.
“Alright, sweetie,” I said, pushing myself off the couch. “We’ll make some snow angels.”
Ryan shook his head, but there was a teasing smile on his face. “You two are hopeless. Okay, but I’m not coming out there. I’m going to stay in the warmth and enjoy my cocoa while you two freeze yourselves out there.”
I smiled at him, grabbing Zoe’s coat and scarf. “You’re always welcome to join us,” I teased, but we both knew Ryan wasn’t about to brave the cold. He was a man of comfort, after all.
As I stepped outside into the crisp air, the night sky above us was a blanket of twinkling stars, the moon casting a soft glow on the fresh snow that had accumulated over the course of the evening. Zoe immediately darted ahead, her boots crunching against the snow as she ran to the far side of the yard, her laughter ringing out in the night air. I followed at a slower pace, savoring the peaceful solitude that the cold air provided. The world seemed still here, as if the noise and chaos of the last few months had been left behind the moment I crossed into this quiet place.
I joined Zoe, and together we lay down in the snow, making snow angels side by side. Her little body wriggled around as she laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile at the pure joy radiating from her. For a few minutes, all the worries that had been eating at me—the stress, the uncertainty—seemed to vanish. There was something about the simplicity of being outside, the snow on my skin, the quiet of the night that made everything else seem insignificant.
When we were done, Zoe jumped to her feet, brushing the snow from her coat and looking up at me with a bright smile. “Mommy, can we make a snowman too?”
I laughed, brushing off my hands. “Of course, sweetie. Let’s make the biggest snowman ever.”
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Back inside the house, the fire crackled in the hearth as we both returned, cold but exhilarated from the snow. My mom and Ryan had set the table, and Zoe, with her usual enthusiasm, immediately began telling them all about the snow angels we’d made.
As I watched her talk, something stirred within me—a soft feeling of contentment mixed with uncertainty. Life wasn’t perfect, but here, in this moment, I could pretend that it was. I could pretend that everything was going to be okay.
But as the evening wore on, I felt that familiar weight of the past tugging at the edges of my mind again. The photo on the mantel. The memories of high school and the people who had once been so close to me. And the faintest whisper of a name—Noah—that lingered in the back of my mind, though I quickly pushed it away. It had been years. He wasn’t part of my life anymore.
Or at least, I told myself that.
- Writer
