Brad was searching for my Frank Sinatra CDs while I tipped the Christmas tree delivery men, giving them an extra ten for dealing with us on the ride. I was sure they’d heard enough about Christmas after Brad talked my ear off about how much fun it was going to be decorating the tree and putting up the garland and setting the candles in the window. The funny thing was, as annoying as it was to listen to him go on and on about how he wasn’t sure if the garland needed any lights to be replaced, I enjoyed it. Maybe because I was so happy to have Brad back, I don’t know. But for once in my life, I didn’t tell him that he was talking about Christmas too much. “Thanks, guys. Take care,” I said as I opened the front door for the two men and allowed them to leave while Brad continued to fumble around my hall closet. We all wished each other a Merry Christmas, regardless of whether any of us were Christian. Closing the door behind them, I turned around and let out a relieved sigh, the sunset starting to shine through the living room window.
