Falling for the Grinch ✔️

Two | Snowflake

Holly

The familiar air of Helena fills my lungs as I take a deep, welcoming breath. God, I've missed you, Montana. I smile to myself before opening my eyes slowly, scanning the crowd in hopes of finding them waiting for me. It doesn't take me long to recognize my Dad with a huge poster that I know Mom helped him with.

Our heart is in Seattle, but we're here to take her home for the Holidays.

With a huge smile on their faces the minute they see me, I quickly run into my parent's arms. They both close me in a tight hug, whispering how much they both missed me and how I look more like a mature adult.

It's been six years for all of us. The older I get, the older they get. Dad's hair is no longer light brown, but covered in grays. I breathe in his mahogany cologne which plants a small smile on my face. He's been wearing it ever since Mom bought it for his birthday.

Thirteen years ago.

"You look great, sweetheart," Mom exclaims when they both release me. "You don't look like my little girl anymore, that's for sure."

I squeeze her hands gently, rubbing my thumbs into her palms. We might FaceTime every now and then, but seeing them in person is very different than through a screen. "I'm still your little girl, though." I point at my chest toward my heart. "In here."

She places her palm against my cheek. "Yes, you definitely are."

Dad clears his throat. "What about me? How do I look?"

I giggle to myself as I admire him. The features on his face are slightly different. A few more lines have reached around his forehead and darker bags barely hide under his eyes. I know being at home and taking care of Mom is taking a lot on him.

"You always look great, Dad. I'm really into this salt and pepper hair you got goin' on."

His lips curve near the left of his mouth. "I'm only forty-five. I shouldn't be graying already."

One thing I got told a lot growing up is how young my parents are. They both were twenty when they had me, so being exactly twenty years apart is shocking to some. Almost all my classmate's parents were in their thirties having kids.

I still don't know what the big deal is.

As I fix my purple beanie against my ears I reply, "Dad, a patient of mine was thirty-seven when he started getting a few gray spots in the back of his head."

His eyes widen. "You're kidding."

"Nope," I say with a laugh. "So age doesn't mean anything."

Mom leans in closer toward my right ear. "You might have to mention that to him more than once," she looks between the two of us. "He nearly had a fit when he found two tiny white strands of white on his chin and shaved it off."

His voice comes out forced, but with a hint of amusement. "I'm too young for this, Renee."

She rolls her blue eyes, which is where I favor her appearance more every day, and locks her arm into mine. "Let's go home."

Home.

❆ ❆ ❆

My childhood home is in a quiet, gated subdivision right in Helena. Growing up, my parents made my privacy their top priority, so the safest community in the city was where Dad wanted us to live. Kids at school used to give me hell for it. They would say my Mom and Dad are strict and that I was stuck up for having loads of money, but that's not the case at all.