Invisible String

42

A week later, the snow hadn't let up much, but it had started to turn into more of a background character-there, but not stopping life entirely. We'd gotten into a groove: hot breakfasts, movie nights under too many blankets, and what felt like hundreds of sippy cups and lost socks.

It was Friday morning, and Mira was officially nine months and one week old. She'd been babbling constantly, trying to pull herself up on everything-including the dog, the coffee table, and once, Travis's leg while he was doing squats. That had ended in laughter and one very interrupted workout.

Lily had just finished her cereal and was busy smearing purple glitter glue on a paper snowflake, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration. I was trying to tidy up the kitchen, sipping coffee that had already gone cold when Travis walked in from shoveling the front porch, snow still dusting his shoulders.

"She's trying to climb the stairs now," he said casually, tossing his gloves onto the counter like he hadn't just dropped a bomb.

"What?! When?" I put down the sponge and looked toward the living room.

"She made it up two steps before I caught her. Didn't cry or anything. Just looked at me like I ruined her plan."

I stared at him.

"She's nine months, Travis."

"I know. I googled it. Advanced," he said, pointing to his own chest proudly.

I couldn't help the laugh that slipped out. "Advanced? You just want bragging rights."

He shrugged and pulled me close, his jacket still cold against my arms. "Can you blame me? She gets it from me."

"Mmhmm. Sure. That explains the dramatic crying when I leave the room, too?"

He grinned and kissed my forehead. "Okay, maybe that part's you."

Behind us, Mira squealed from the play mat, banging a wooden ring against the floor. I went over and scooped her up just as she tried to roll toward the tree skirt again-her favorite destination lately.

"Let's not destroy Christmas, baby," I murmured into her hair.

Lily perked up. "Can we go look at lights tonight, please please please?"

Travis met my eyes, raising his brows. "We could. If it clears up."

"Hot chocolate, too?" Lily asked, adding sparkles to the snowflake with no restraint.

"Of course," I said. "It's a requirement."

Travis reached out and tugged gently at my sleeve. "You okay?"

I nodded, pressing my cheek to Mira's warm head. "Yeah. Just... tired. But good tired."

He smiled. "Same."

That night, if the roads cleared, we'd drive through a neighborhood that went overboard on lights, let the girls sit in the back with fuzzy blankets, and play Christmas music too loud. But for now, I settled onto the couch with Mira in my arms, Lily on the rug humming to herself, and Travis beside me rubbing circles on my back.

Messy, chaotic, warm.

This was what December was supposed to feel like.

I nudged Travis with my foot as I rocked Mira in her fleece onesie. She was finally drifting off after a long day of crawling marathons and trying to eat glitter off Lily's snowflakes. He looked up from his phone, one eyebrow raised.

"Can you text the family group chat?" I asked, tucking a blanket around Mira. "Tell them: anyone in town or willing to hop on a plane for a few hours can join us at the park and hot chocolate. We'll be walking around looking at lights."