Christmas morning felt different from every other Christmas I could remember.
I was still at the base.
The night had been long, and my body was beginning to feel the weight of it.
I had worked through the storm, helped with the rescue, and returned after eleven.
There hadn't been much time to think about anything else.
Now the immediate pressure had passed.
And my thoughts were returning to home.
I checked my phone.
Nothing.
No missed calls.
No Christmas greeting from my father.
No message asking whether I had arrived safely or whether I had changed my travel plans.
I stared at the screen longer than I should have.
Then I locked it.
I told myself there was no reason to expect anything.
He had made his position clear.
I wasn't coming to dinner.
Jason's celebration was going ahead without me.
That was the arrangement he wanted.
Still, some part of me had hoped he might reconsider.
Perhaps he would call after the guests left.
Perhaps he would ask how I had spent the evening.
Perhaps he would remember that I was his daughter before remembering that I was a soldier.
But the phone remained silent.
I sat down and rubbed my tired hands.
The memory of the little boy came back.
I could still feel his fingers gripping my jacket.
I wondered whether he had managed to sleep.
I wondered whether he had been reunited with his family.
Those thoughts felt easier to carry than the ones about my father.
At least the boy hadn't been told that his presence was inconvenient.
I took another look at the duty schedule.
The two younger soldiers had been able to spend Christmas with their families.
Their assignments had been covered.
That part of my decision still felt right.
I was glad they had gone.
I didn't want to take that away from myself just because I was disappointed.
Later, Alvarez checked in with me.
She looked tired too.
"How are you holding up?"
"I'm all right."
She glanced at my phone.
"Anybody call?"
I shook my head.
She didn't ask who I was waiting for.
She didn't need to.
"Well, if you need anything, let me know."
"I will. Thank you."
She moved on.
I appreciated her concern.
It reminded me that family wasn't always determined by the people whose names appeared on official documents or family photographs.
Sometimes it was the person who noticed you were quiet.
Sometimes it was someone who offered you a place at a table without asking what you might say about your career.
I thought about her sister's invitation again.
I had turned it down.
I wished I hadn't.
Not because I wanted to replace my family.
Because I had allowed one person's rejection to make me reject another person's kindness.
That was difficult to admit.
I put my phone away and continued with my responsibilities.
The morning went on.
I didn't know what was happening at my father's house.
I didn't know whether Jason was still talking about his promotion.
I didn't know whether the guests had enjoyed dinner.
And I didn't know whether my father had mentioned me at all.
For the first time, I decided not to spend the morning imagining it.
There were other things worth thinking about.
The passengers who had survived.
Walt and his grandchildren.
The people who had worked through the blizzard.
I held on to those things.
Christmas had not gone the way I wanted.
But it had not been an empty night.
And that mattered.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: I Was Still Thinking About the Rescued Passengers When I Realized Someone Else Might Have Been Watching the Same Moments
Three Nights Before Christmas, My Father Made One Phone Call That Changed Where I Would Spend the Holiday
Part 9 of 20
