Fragile

April

Since your father was called into surgery, I got you for Christmas. I woke up at 4am, panicking about your Christmas list. I certainly couldn't get you those things and Santa couldn't, either. I made the best out of the day with you anyways, running this Christmas Kepner style.

You were used to waking up to a grand tree decorated with tinsel and ornaments and shining bulbs with mountains of presents and your stocking filled to the brim. Every child's Christmas dream. Of course, that was the Avery way. You'd never experienced the type of Christmas I'd grown up with.

So that's what we did. I roused you at 6:30am, drawing your curtains open to reveal the fresh sprinkling of snow. "No mommy." Your sleepy voice mumbled, pulling your blanket close to your body. "I'm still tired."

"Come on silly goose! We're doing Christmas different this year. Let's put your present on!" With that, your eyes shot open and you sat up.

"What present?" Your curious voice asked, eyes scanning the room. You spotted the cream and lavender dress and immediately smiled. "Get dressed now!"

We struggled with your tights, finding out early on that cutting off the foot and stuffing it into your cast was the best way to make them fit properly. You adored the dress, happily playing with the bow on the back as I tied cream ribbons to the end of your French braids. I stuck you in the car, lugging your wheelchair and snack bag into the back with you. You nibbled on an apple and a fruit pouch while and drove to Church.

"What about the presents mommy?" You questioned, peering out the window. You were counting all of the red cars. "10,11,12.."

"Presents after. But we're going to do a few things first." I pulled into our Church's parking lot and unloaded you.

We went to the early morning family Christmas service, which let out by 9:30am. I piled you back into your car seat and we were off to our next destination. You knew the route all too well. Instinctively, you groaned. "No mommy, no doctors."

"We're not seeing any doctor today for you. We're going to hand out presents." I looked at you through the mirror.

"To the doctors?" You asked, looking back at me.

"Anyone." I watched your face twitch slightly as you did the math.

"So..I can wheel up to anyone and give them a present? Even a security guard? Or a person in the waiting room?"

I smiled. "Anyone you want."

---------------------------------------------

The gifts varied. Some were baked goods and a tin of tea, some care packages consisting of toothpaste, a toothbrush, hair elastics and a brush, and some children's bags with card games, finger puppets and a small book. You were overjoyed, handing boxes and bags to whoever you saw.

Care package for the man with the IV and wheelchair, cookies and tea for a nurse, toys for a crying child. You brightened everyone's day. You wheeled yourself up to a doctor in a lab coat, tugging on it. They turned around and smiled.

"Hattie bug?"  Your father asked, baffled.

"Daddy! I have this for you!" You shoved a bag into his arms and smiled brightly. "Merry Christmas!"

"Thank you, baby!" He bent down to give you a big kiss. "I have lots of goodies for you, and Santa made a pit stop at my house!"

Your eyes shone. "Reaaally?" You elongated the word, clapping with excitement.

"Really. And I have a present for your mother." He stood up and nervously handed me an envelope.

My smile faded. "Jackson.."

"Just open it."

Nervously, I tore open the top. Inside was a single sheet of folded of lined paper. I unraveled it, revealing 3 simple words in large print.

Dropped the lawsuit.

My jaw dropped. "You-how-what?" I stammered, at loss for words.

"I want us to be happy. All of us. I want us to be a family." 

And we were. For a while.