You're all incredible. We're so happy you're here with us this season.

Chapter 2: Home is Where the Heart Is

Emmett

Saturday, December 2, 2023

Forks, Washington

"You sure you got it?" Dad's voice calls from the bottom of the steps leading to the attic. I can see him trying to peer up as far as he can to make sure I made it up here safely, as if I haven't done this a thousand times before — as a child and as a grown ass man.

They aren't exactly the sturdiest attic stairs I've ever been on, but after so many years of being the one elected to climb up here every Christmas, it has become relatively easy. After I've moaned and groaned my way up the rackety stairs and hauled myself through the tiny space, I step onto the attic floor and turn around to look at him.

"Really, Dad?" I ask with an exaggerated huff and puff with my hands on my hips.

"Your mother made me ask!" He exclaims in self-defense, though I can see the smile playing on his lips as he raises his hands in the air.

"I'm fine," I answer with a chuckle, already turning to look around into the familiar space. Dust falls in a steady stream in front of the solitary window through a patch of sunlight, and I hear Dad tap the wall gently before heading back downstairs. "Call me when you're ready."

Even all the way up here in the furthest corner of my parent's house, I can hear the Christmas music coming through the walls of the attic, and though muffled, I find myself humming along as my eyes dance along the boxes of storage. Soon enough, I find the boxes I'm looking for, though it seems the collection somehow continues to grow over the years. Every year, I hear my parents promise each other not to accumulate more stuff, but we all know how that goes. I do, especially because I'm the one who is called over to make the trek up to the attic every December. This year, Dad can't do it because of his back. Mom because of spiders. Jasper and Alice absolutely would have been here if they could, but because of the baby being sick, they opted to catch some rest at home for the day.

Shaking my head in jest, I realize that even when I lived in New York, I somehow always managed to find a way to be involved in our Christmas traditions in some fashion.

Not like I mind. Secretly, or maybe not so secretly, I love it. The Christmas season has always been my favorite, and everyone who knows me knows it.

And accepts it.

Colored red and green for obvious reasons, I carefully make my way over to the festive boxes that house all of our Christmas decorations, mindful of where to step so I don't fall my way through the ceilings like my own version of Clark Griswold.

I know these ceilings. I know to step two steps right and three steps forward. I know to step in the center of the next beam – not the right! – to bring myself right in front of the still-growing Christmas collection that represents the magical Decembers our family brings.

And do we know how to bring them.

Crossing my arms over my chest slowly, I whistle as I eye the boxes in front of me. I could do it all in three trips, most likely, two if Jasper were here to help. I know Mom wouldn't rush me – most likely out of fear of her boxes being ruined rather than for my safety – but I know she is bursting at the seams to free all of our December favorites from the boxed-prisons they find themselves in for eleven months of the year.

And you know what? I get it. I cannot wait to get home and do the same thing. Unbox. Unwrap. Plug in. Turn on. Light up.

All of it!

I want it all – and I want to do all of it with my Rosie and Noelle.

"You got it all, Em?"

My dad's voice breaks me away from my wandering thoughts, and I focus again on the task in front of me. I knew Dad wouldn't be able to stay away for long; he loves it just as much as the rest of us. I know he would be up here helping me sort it all if he could. He knows the procedure: move all the boxes to the edge of the attic, then pass each box one by one to the person at the bottom of the attic stairs. Stack against the second floor wall. Bring boxes down steps to the bottom floor, where Mom is already waiting with her Christmas music blaring and Christmas cookies cooling. Jasper would typically be around the corner, stealing said cookies with an obnoxious and usually battery powered Christmas sweater on.

I can't explain how it feels to be back home.

It fills me with an unparalleled level of relief to know I'm able to be here with them again. To see the magic come to life literally before my eyes is something I'll never be able to replicate — not even in New York, where the city and the tourists seem to bleed red and green.

When Rose and I decided to move back to Washington a few years back, we went into it with an open mind. Not knowing what to expect, we promised every decision we made would be agreed on together. And for the last two years, things have gone extremely well. Unusually well, to be honest.

I think because Rose and I had spent the last few years before our move miserable in our relationship, and also individually, that we had forgotten how good life could actually be together.

And things are good.

So good that I miss her now, even though I'll only be here in Forks for a few hours while I help move the Christmas boxes out of my parent's attic. She wanted to come, but Noelle has been going through a sleep regression and had kept us up all night long, and we knew it would be risky taking our fifteen month old out on little to no sleep. Sitting this trip out is fine because we were just here not too long ago for Thanksgiving and we'll be seeing everyone in abundance throughout the month of December, anyway.

It's a little over a four hour drive to and from our apartment in Seattle and Mom and Dad's house here in Forks, but compared to the distance between here and New York, this is nothing.

This is perfect.

Speaking of perfect, I finalize my plan to get all of these boxes down and shout to Dad at the bottom of the attic stairs. "Ready when you are!"

The three of us – Mom has now joined the rescue effort – manage to lug all of the loot to our dining room in less than twenty minutes. I'm sweaty, with a little dust on my shoulders, but happy to have the worst of it over. Dad rewards me with a hot coffee as Mom cracks open the first box.

Her smile is brighter than Rockefeller Center at the sight of some of her most prized possessions.

It makes me all that more excited to open my own boxes stashed in our apartment

"Esme," Dad says as he takes a proper look at all the boxes. "We really have to –"

"I know, I know," Mom says, dismissing him as she opens another box like she can't open them all fast enough to peer inside. "We say that every year."

"And then you go shopping and can't resist," he replies with a roll of his eyes. "Can't blame you for this one, though. I love all the gnomes!"

I laugh as he takes Mom's new gnome collection gingerly out of the box, the eagerness on his face contagious as they begin to set up their display. I watch them ooh and ahh over all of their things, each one bringing another memory with it. I listen to them bicker over what goes where, chuckling to myself as I finish the last of my coffee. I fucking love it.

"Ever think you're going to run out of room one of these days?" I ask over my shoulder as I walk into the kitchen to put my mug into the dishwasher. There are decorations on literally every flat surface, and I know that it may look like chaos at the moment, but Mom and Dad are magicians themselves when it comes to making the house look festive for the holidays.

"That's what you and your brother are for," Mom replies. I can hear the laughter in her voice.

"I get first dibs on the Santa ladder!" I shout, pretending to run into the dining room to dig through all of the boxes for my particular favorite decoration of them all. "I should anyway. Jasper's not even around today."

"Evie's sick," Dad pipes in from the bottom of a box.

"Ah, Noelle went through it back in October," I say, choosing a box at random to unpack. I put the decorations on the dining room table with the rest of them. "Always hard seeing them miserable."

"On Alice's first day back to work, no less." Mom sighs and then points over to a chair in the corner. "Here, Em. I started a pile for you."

Sure enough, she has placed several items that they are apparently ready to "retire" into a box on the chair for me to take back home to Seattle. Eyeing the decorations, I shake my head slowly as I think about the closet space back home. While the apartment is spacious enough, there is very little storage space.

"I have no idea where I'm going to put all this," I say a little while later as I begin to gather all of my things. I want to avoid the traffic if I can.

"You're your mother's son. Since when is not having a lot of space going to stop you? Stop either of you, for that matter?" Dad asks rhetorically, ditching the coffee for a well-earned beer.

"You be quiet or I won't be hanging any mistletoe this year," Mom retorts, nudging him aside with a handful of holiday plush stuffed animals she sets up on the steps every year for Noelle.

"On that note, I should get going," I laugh. After saying our goodbyes with a plan to see each other before Christmas, I head home with a trunk full of old to them but new to us decorations and a plate full of leftovers Mom had cooked for everyone yesterday.

No matter the time of year, but especially Christmas, I leave Forks grateful for everything in my life. There was a time not too long ago where I thought it was impossible to find the joy in anything, and now, I laugh to myself as I merge onto the highway, now it seems as if I've run out of room for it all.

And it's one of my favorite problems to have.