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An hour later, we’ve cleaned the kitchen, left the cookies to finish drying on the dining room table, and assembled in the living room to decorate our lovely tree.  A crockpot full of hot cocoa is warming on the kitchen island.  I’ve set out cups, a can of whipped cream, a bowl of marshmallows, and some festive Christmas sprinkles so the kids can help themselves to the sweet drink.  As they return to the kitchen and line up to serve themselves, I wander out to the living room as my husband strings the lights on the tree.  Janna’s boyfriend is standing nearby watching this production.

“Lyric,” I address him, “we have you to thank for the perfection of our Christmas tree this year.”

No matter what angle I observe this tree from, I can find no fault with it; it is absolutely perfect.  No unruly branches hanging out.  No rusty pine needles ready to fall off and stab someone in the toe as they innocently pass by the tree on their way to the kitchen.  No odd lumps or gaping holes.  It’s just a beautiful, verdant tree, its evergreen branches reminding us of the timeless meaning of Christmas. 

I watch as it is suddenly lit up by several strings of rainbow lights.  One of my most favorite moments of the Christmas season is wandering through the living room once all the lights have been turned out throughout the house and only the Christmas tree lights remain to illuminate the room.  I enjoy such a cheerful feeling as I study the quite beauty of those colorful lights shining in the dark.  Reminding me that the darkness cannot overcome even the faintest bit of light.  Darkness is no match for light. 

The rest of the kids pile into the living room and approach the coffee table to seek out an ornament to hang upon the tree.  Over the next half hour, one decoration after another is hung from the green branches until the tree is completely covered in color and sparkle. 

“Wait!” Kookie exclaims.  “We forgot to place the star on top.”

I groan.  Because in a perfect world that star would rest atop our tree proudly, its light shining for all to see.  But the world, as you must have already figured out, is far from perfect.  And so is our star.  Without fail every year, it is placed on the top branch of the tree…only to fall off as soon as the diligent tree-dresser lets go of it.  I don’t know why I don’t just find a new star to grace the top of the tree.  Instead, we try to make the old one work each and every time.

Janna picks it up off the table.  For some reason, placing the star on the tree became her job several years ago.  Probably because she insisted that she should do it, and the boys decided the privilege wasn’t worth the fight they’d have to wage to win the right to place that star atop the tree.  I watch in wonder as she turns towards Lyric and hands him the star.

“Would you put it on the top of the tree?”  She glances at that high perch and remarks, “I think I’m a bit too short to reach it this year.”

Lyric grins at her.  “Sure,” he responds in his melodious, deep voice.  He strides towards the tree, reaches up, and with ease sets the star on the top branch, the one that runs vertically.  I hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable moment when he lets go…and the star crashes to the ground.  Perhaps we just believe in shooting stars in my house.

But this year, my expectations are to be disappointed.  I gasp in astonishment as the star stays put. 

“What on earth?” I breathe.

Lyric glances towards me.  “What is it?”  He peers back up at the treetop.  “Did I do it wrong?”

“No,” I sigh in awe.  “For the first time ever, it was apparently done right.”

“Hey!” Janna shouts at me.

I glance at her.  “I meant no offense.  You’re not the only one who’s put the star up there.  It always fell off for me too.  And for Daddy.  But, Lyric…you must have the touch.  First, you find us the perfect tree.  And now you’ve managed to get that silly, old star to stay put.  I think you deserve another cookie.”

“Really?” he beams at me, then he glances with pride at our gorgeous tree. 

I smile at him as he heads for the dining room table and snags another gingerbread man off a tray.  He swallows half of that little guy in one bite.  He must like gingerbread as much as I do!

“Mom?  Can I borrow the van?  I need to take Emmie and Noel home.”

It’s Kookie whose soft voice is breathing into my ear.  I turn to stare at him.  Since when does he drive Emmie home?

I frown.  “Aren’t they staying the night?”

“Are they?  Oh.  I didn’t realize.” 

Does he sound disappointed?  Was he hoping for some almost-alone time with Emmie?

––

A couple of hours later, I climb into bed and turn towards my husband.  “I can’t believe how old Nana and Kookie are now.  I mean, she has a boyfriend!  Did I tell you?  It’s official now.”

“Lyric?” he asks.  “She can’t date him.”

“What?” I ask, surprised.  “Why not?  He’s a very nice boy.”  I’m wondering if my husband picked up on something I missed.

“He won’t fit into our family.”

“Why not?”

“With a name like Lyric, I can’t come up with a fun nickname for him now, can I?”

I chortle.  It just pops out of me.  His response was so unexpected.  Although, upon further reflection, I don’t know why.  I should have anticipated such nonsense.  It is, after all, par for the course with him.

“Are you poking fun at his name by not renaming him?”

“He already has a nickname.  Lyric.”

I giggle again.  And shake my head.  “Sometimes,” I breathe, “you’re even sillier than our children are.”

“I’m still not as silly as you,” he murmurs with a twinkle in his eye.

“True,” I admit.  “Too true.  At least, we know our kids come by it honestly.”

I fall asleep a few minutes later wondering what really transpired between Kookie and Emmie in my van earlier today….