EpilogueNext Christmas
I heard the bell ring over the music on the stereo and the commotion in the kitchen. I had been gathering glasses that our friends had left out along our coffee table after our very first Christmas party. We had gone all-out with the festive decorations, the spiked eggnog, and then many confectionaries that still delighted me to look upon. We only had a few gingerbread men left, along with some Christmas bark, but the smell of the peanut butter cookies, Nanaimo bars, and Christmas cake still lingered in the air. I was caught between a nostalgic remembrance of our wonderful party and the task of cleaning up when I heard the bell again.
“Okay,” I said aloud. “So this isn’t in my dream?”
Matthew looked at me from the kitchen. He was washing dishes with Tate, the two
