PART 13 – Christmas Eve Arrived Without the Phone Call I Had Hoped For, and I Finally Stopped Waiting Beside the Window

Christmas Eve used to be one of my favorite days.

Not because anything particularly special happened.

It was the preparation.

The cooking.

The wrapping paper.

The small arguments about who had forgotten to buy something.

Walter always claimed he was finished shopping weeks before Christmas.

He never was.

There was usually one more thing he needed to find.

And somehow, he always remembered it at the last minute.

This year, the house was different.

I woke up early and made coffee.

The calendar was the first thing I noticed.

December 24.

The appointment I had written weeks earlier was still crossed out.

Westdale Community Center remained underneath it.

I stood there for a moment.

Then I went about my morning.

I had decided not to spend the day checking my phone.

I had already made my plans.

There was no reason to keep hoping Adam would change his mind.

Still, I couldn't help looking at the empty space on the kitchen counter where I usually placed my phone.

I picked it up.

No new messages.

I put it down again.

I made breakfast.

Afterward, I checked the groceries I had separated for the center.

Everything was ready.

I placed the bag near the front door.

Then I went into the living room.

Walter's chair was still beside the window.

I straightened the cushion.

He used to sit there and read the newspaper while I prepared Christmas dinner.

Sometimes he would fall asleep before finishing the first page.

I used to tease him about it.

He always insisted he was only resting his eyes.

I smiled at the memory.

Then I looked outside.

A few houses on the street had Christmas decorations in their windows.

One neighbor was carrying a large box toward his front door.

Another was struggling with a string of lights.

Ordinary things.

Things I had seen every December.

I realized I was waiting for a sound.

A car pulling into the driveway.

A message.

Adam's voice.

Anything.

I didn't like admitting that.

I was sixty-two years old.

I had raised a son.

I had buried my husband.

I had learned to manage a household alone.

Yet some part of me still wanted my son to call and say he had made a mistake.

I went back to the kitchen.

I opened the drawer where I kept old photographs.

There was one from a Christmas years earlier.

Adam was standing beside Walter.

Both were smiling.

Lily and Noah weren't born yet.

The tree behind them was covered in decorations.

Walter was holding a wrapped present.

Adam had one hand on his father's shoulder.

I studied the picture.

I wondered when things had become so complicated.

Then I put it back.

I didn't want to spend Christmas Eve searching for answers I didn't have.

Later that afternoon, I called Clare.

I wanted to confirm what time she needed me at the center.

She answered quickly.

"Joanne, hello."

"Hi, Clare. I just wanted to check tomorrow's schedule."

She told me when the volunteers were expected.

I wrote the time on a small piece of paper.

Then she asked how I was doing.

"I'm alright."

She paused.

"Are you sure?"

I smiled.

"Better than yesterday."

We talked briefly about the food arrangements.

She explained that there would be several things to organize before the volunteers began their work.

I told her I would arrive ready to help.

Before ending the call, she said something that stayed with me.

"Walter would have liked having you here."

I looked toward his photograph.

"I think he would have."

After we hung up, I placed the schedule beside my keys.

I prepared a simple dinner.

There was no reason to cook a large meal for one person.

I ate at the kitchen table.

The house was quiet.

But I wasn't miserable.

I had spent too much time believing that Christmas had to look exactly the way it always had.

Perhaps I needed to allow it to become something different.

That evening, I checked my phone one final time.

There was still nothing from Adam.

I placed it on the counter.

Then I turned off the kitchen light.

For the first time since the grocery store, I stopped waiting for the phone to ring.

Click here to continue reading: PART 14: The Morning Before Christmas Made Me Remember How Much of Our Family Tradition Had Been Built Around Simple Things