Page 47 of The Art of Being Merry
My comment halts his pacing, and he spins his body in my direction. “What if today is the day he does? There’s a first time for everything. Isn’t that what you say?”
Of course, he’s right. Words I’ve no doubt said to him in the past about his father. I hate how he’s lumping Dax into the same category.
“That’s true, but let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. He said he’ll be here at ten. It’s not quite ten yet.”
“If he’s not here by ten-oh-one, we’re taking our car.”
“Who’s the parent?” I remind him.
He huffs and resumes his walking, muttering words under his breath. He’s so much like me at that age, it’s scary. Though our life experiences vary vastly, and he has a lot of his father in him, too. If he uses it for good, he’ll go far. I cringe thinking about him using it for evil.
“Mama, come see my picture.” Unlike his brother, Jace occupies his time by drawing.
I glance over his shoulder, amazed at the details in his picture of downtown Main Street lit up by Christmas lights. It’s his own design, and the details are there. He even labeled some shops—with incorrect spelling—but it’s easy to see it’s Main Street, Winterberry.
“This is amazing, Jacey. I love the candy canes on the streetlights. Nice touch.”
He sits up straighter in his chair, his little ego feeding off my praise. “Thanks. It was hard to keep the red inside the lines ‘cause they’re so small.” Rather than criticizing his work, he’s more explaining his process.
I love listening to the way his brain works, similar yet different from mine. He’s more technical with his process, where I’ve always created from the heart, getting the big ideas on paper, and layering in the smaller details at the end. He starts with the small details and works his way out to the bigger ones.
“You made it work so well. We should put it up on the fridge.”
He shakes his head. “It’s for Mrs. Nicholas’s fridge. She showed me an empty spot for where it’ll go.” I’m so taken aback by his comment, my facial display doesn’t convey my emotions correctly. Jace pats my hand. “I’ll make another one for our fridge. Don’t be sad.”
I can’t blame him for misreading my expression. One, he’s five. Two, there are too many emotions to distinguish.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“Of course, Mama.” His smile fades just slightly. “It might be a little different. I’m not sure I can do it the same.”
“That’s what makes each piece special.”
“Yep.”
I muss his hair and leave a kiss on the top of his head. “Don’t forget to sign your work.”
He snaps his fingers. “Oh, right.” He picks up the black marker and leans his head over the drawing, just far enough so I can see his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on his name. When he’s finished, he admires his work with a satisfied smile. “There. All done.”
“He’s here. He’s here. It’s time to go,” Atlas shouts, his voice way too loud for our small house.
“Relax, Atlas. You won’t miss anything.”
He throws open the front door, practically salivating at the mouth, waiting for Dax to get out of his truck and walk up the front walkway. From our front window, I watch him lumber from the truck, his winter coat zipped tightly over his torso and an elf hat haphazardly sitting on his head. It should be ridiculous, yet Dax pulls it off. Dare I say well? I cover my laugh with my hand, but it dies when he produces a bag and a tray of four cups—two large, two small—from the local coffee shop in town. My mouth waters anticipating what’s in the cup.
It’s not in the budget to indulge often, so when the opportunity arises, I always savor the flavors, not knowing when I’ll get the chance again. Twice in one week is a treat.
“Hi, Dax,” Atlas calls out from the doorway with a wave.
“Morning. I brought snacks and hot chocolate.”
“But don’t we have to get going to see Santa? We can’t miss him.”
I leave my perch at the window and join Atlas at the door. “Atlas,” I admonish so only he can hear. “How about being grateful for Dax’s kind gesture?”
He peers up at me, myriad emotions swirling on his expression. “But Mama.”
“No buts, mister. I promise you will not miss Santa, but please have some patience.”
