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Being the oldest of four sisters meant I grew up taking care of people. It's in my bones, in my blood. It's what I do probably better than anything else, especially with my mom gone. She died when I was little, which meant four girls under one roof with one dad who was doing his best to keep it together.
He has always done so amazingly well with us.
Over the years, he’s bought more tampons and ice cream than most men, always making sure we were taken care of. I guess it just goes to show that if a man wanted to, he would. And my dad has always wanted to be a wonderful dad to his girls. Almost more so now that we are all grown up. It is as if he became even more protective. I'm the oldest at twenty-two, and it seems like just yesterday I left home.
Now I'm back.
I bite my bottom lip, tears stinging my eyes, wishing it had all gone differently.
My sister Sparkle comes up behind me. "Miracle, what's wrong? You crying?”
"I’m fine," I say as I wipe away the tears. "It's just, I don't know. The holidays always make me miss Mom." I was 10 when she passed, and I still have this vision of her twirling around the living room, laughing and singing with my dad because they were deciding where the ornaments should go on the tree we'd chopped down earlier in the woods. We always did that even after Mom passed. But it’s always different without her. She created the Christmas magic.
I look at Sparkle. She's 20 and all bright-eyed and hopeful. Her brown hair is in curls past her shoulders, and her chocolate brown eyes look like hot cocoa.
"What?" she asks. "You're looking at me all funny."
I shrug, knowing we're mirror images of one another. I'm just maybe an inch taller than her, but we can share all the same clothes and shoes. In fact, all four of us girls can. We were built the same. Same as our mom, all of us. Five foot four, a little curvy, dimples in our cheeks, dark brown hair, and eyes that our daddy says sparkle.
"I'm glad to be back," I tell Sparkle. She gives me a hug.
"I'm glad you're back too. I missed you."
I add some butter to the mashed potatoes that I'm making on top of the stove.
"Can you scooch over just a little bit? I want to pull out the ham."
"Oh, sorry," I say. I step aside as Sparkle pulls out the honey-glazed ham for our Christmas Eve feast. We're going to have a good dinner together before we head over to church tonight. Christmas Eve mass. I swallow.
"What is it?" Sparkle says, her eye catching mine.
"It's just tonight," I tell her. "It's so strange to go to church after everything."
Sparkle sets the ham on the counter, closes the oven, and then gives me a hug with her potholdered hands. "You're brave," she says. "And you're beautiful. And maybe your Christmas wish will come true this year."
I laugh. "A Christmas wish, huh?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. Now that you're not a nun anymore, who knows? Maybe you'll meet somebody."
I twist my lips. "It seems too soon," I tell her. I just made the decision two weeks ago to leave what I thought was my true calling. But I realized that while I love to serve people, I have another longing in my heart.
It felt foolish, and I was terrified to say anything. But my mentor, Mother Grace, encouraged me to follow my heart, even if it was scary, and to be brave, even if it meant not knowing what would come next.
"The potatoes and ham are done, which means dinner's ready," I tell Sparkle, not wanting to get lost in memories of Mother Grace and the convent.
She smiles. "All right. I'll go get Lovey and Clover."
Just then, Dad comes in through the back door.
"Hey, Dad," I say, "just in time for supper."
He stomps off his boots covered in snow and pulls off his thick flannel coat, hanging it on a hook by the back door. His knit hat is covered in snow too, and he takes it off, revealing his thick wavy gray hair. He has never dated since my mom died, but it’s been a dozen years, and he is a catch. I wonder if he is lonely like I am.
"It's pretty windy out there," he tells me.
I smile. "Maybe we'll have to drive to mass tonight."
"Maybe," he says. "But I think the wind will die down and we can still walk over. It's just a few blocks. And it’s tradition to walk there, all bundled up."
