The Christmas tree farm was closed for the season. I was worried the places in town would be fairly picked over, but there were still plenty of trees to be had. I don’t know how to Christmas in this new family season. When the kids were small, like all under ten, everything felt so natural to me. As a mother you had a sort of power over your children. You directed the day and created the light.

There was something undeniably God-like about it. And now I’m just mom. And the pains are still there, but they’re different now. Just like each person who lives here is, their personalities coming out and developing, whereas before they were just kids. They were themselves, but altogether one in a way that remains in my mind but has faded with time.

It isn’t strife or sullenness, the things that you would expect at this stage. It’s distance and me in my room while they decorate. I did eventually come out and everyone opened their Advent pajamas. Dad did the shopping for those this year. The one whose former pants were six inches off of the ground was grateful. The rest were too. Mine were green, a new favorite pair of pajama pants now.