post-sister christmas

The week before Christmas, a conversation with Cohen:

Dripping with glee and restless anticipation, “Dad, I am so excited about Christmas. Every year Keaton let’s me sleep in her room and we stay up and talk and snuggle and we’re so excited we can’t go to sleep and and…” trailing-off into exuberant gibberish with the biggest smile.

Then with a visible pause, smile fading, head cocked in that something-just-came-to-me thoughtful posture, he looks at me and says, “Dad, will Keaton even be hear next Christmas?”

Oh, I see where we’re going. “Well buddy, regardless of what Keaton chooses to do after highschool, most kids come home to spend Christmas with their families, so I would say ‘yes’ she’ll be here.”

“But, it won’t be her room anymore really…” a little sad.

Seeing he’s still processing, I don’t offer a response… just waiting…

With a slowly spreading smile, “Well, I will invite her to spend the night in my room.”


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