The Change

"I don't have a reason. I just want it too," Anne Joyce said with a smile as she opened the top door of her double oven and put in her green bean casserole, wiping her hands on her snowman apron.

The Joyce's kitchen was buzzing with activity. James, husband and father, bent over the table, brushing egg wash on rolls. "Does she have to have a reason?"

"Ah, come on, Dad. It's more fun if we pry it out of her," Glenn said.

"The Young One is right," Stan, the oldest twin by five minutes, said. "Isn't it the reason for tonight? To have fun?"

"Not at your mother's expense," James said. He was only pretending to aid his wife. He had the same opinion as his sons. After all, the boys inherited their teasing nature from him.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you," she said. "We all know it's exactly at my expense." She set the oven timer and then checked the bottom oven to see how the turkey was coming along. Like always, juicy and golden brown. "I just love snow, is all. No conspiracy."

The boys sat at the table cutting veggies, cheese, and summer sausage, loading a party tray for the Christmas movies: "The Muppets Christmas Carol" and "Elf." Anne loved Christmas. She watched the boys cutting and James brushing, hoping Christmas would always be the same, even though change was around the corner. Her boys left for basic in a few short days, and it loomed over her, hauntingly whispering, "Christmas won't ever be the same."

"I hate to burst your bubble, but it's not showing any snow in the fifteen-day forecast," Stan said.

"You can't trust those weather apps. They change every time you open them. Now, my knees can be trusted, and they say it's on the way."

"Oh, your knees, uh? Do they have an app I can download?" Everyone laughed. Anne looked at Stan, half stern, half laughing; he looked back and winked, a massive grin on his face and love in his eyes.

"Oh, you boys. What am I supposed to do with you?"

"Just love us, Mom," Glenn said.

"Well, of course, there's that," she said. "And maybe I'll go 'Gibbs' on you."

The boys jokingly covered the back of their heads. What silly boys, she thought. What wonderful, silly boys. She felt tears knocking at the door, demanding to be let out. No! Not today. She turned away and busied herself with dishes, looking out the window, thinking of snow. If the snow doesn't show up, what else will not?

"So, Mom? I was thinking. Since we are making a huge sacrifice to serve our country, don't you think we deserve the iPhone 15?" Glenn asked.

"Nope. We just got you the 13. You'll just have to serve your country with it. Isn't that right, James?"

"That's right. I agree with Mom."

"Really, Dad?" Glenn said. "She's not even wearing pants."

"Hey! That's below the belt."

"Yours? Or Mom's?"

"Oooo," Stan said. "Good one."

James laughed. "Alright. Alright. But seriously, boys, your old phones will have to do."

"Okay, but what if we can't visit for some reason?" Stan asked. "You wouldn't want us stuck with an inferior iPhone?"

A pang struck Anne's heart, "Why wouldn't you be able to?" She stopped doing dishes and stared at Stan.

"Well, I don't know, Mom, there might be circumstances. You just never know."

She returned to the dishes, "I can't think of any good ones." She looked again through the window, her heart longing for snow. A few clouds could be seen, and, to Anne, they looked like the kind that could bring snow.

"I'm sure you're right." Stan looked at his dad and raised his eyebrows in a way that said, "Can you believe her?"

They devoured the turkey, dressing, and mashed potatoes, teasing and bantering the entire meal, which is the Joyce's way of saying I love you. Next, they watched the Muppets act out a classic Dickens tale. Anne's troubled mind wondered, Where was Scrooge's mother? Did he forget her? Of course, he did. He left to make his fortune. Everyone knows you can't have Christmas with your mom while trying to make your fortune. The guys laughed when a rat fell into a barrel. She also laughed even though she hadn't seen the descending rat and hadn't had the foggiest idea why they were laughing. Does that go for serving your country?

She went to the bathroom, pulled a Kleenex from its box, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and stared out the little window above the toilet. She thought of eighteen Christmases. Each one covered with a white blanket of snow. Each one covered with laughter. Each one covered with love. She tried to imagine what the next eighteen would be covered with.

The movies ended, the veggie tray was picked apart, and everyone pitched in to help clean up.

Stan was drying cups, "The Young One, and I wanted to thank you guys again for letting us join. We know that wasn't easy."

Silence filled the room. James spotted Anne's back. She wouldn't turn from doing dishes. He tried answering for both of them. "It is hard, but we're proud of you both. We know you guys are going to do great."

Anne nodded with her back to them all, and her face raised to the window, never slowing, her sponge making tiny circles washing plates, cups, pans, and trays. My washing won't change. Nobody can change that.

"Mom?" Stan said.

"Um?" She said, without turning or pausing her circles.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, we're both sorry," Glenn said.

She stopped washing. Her shoulders drooped, and she slowly turned. "You have nothing to be sorry about." She rinsed and dried her hands. "Are you sorry for being selfless? For wanting to make a difference? For serving?" She took the towel and dried her eyes. "No! Don't be sorry." She hugged them. "If anyone should be sorry, it's me." The three of them stood in the kitchen, embracing and crying. James awkwardly placed a hand on Anne's back.

Outside, a lone water droplet freezes and marries a tiny dust particle thousands of feet in the air, merging as one ice crystal. Water vapor freezes onto it as it falls through time and space, building new crystals. The fall sharpens and defines it, growing glassy arms to create a unique, special snowflake. Soon, hundreds of snowflakes are added, then thousands, then millions.

A few Kleenexes found the trash can, and everyone returned to cleaning. The twins started cracking jokes again; Anne and James went along, making a few of their own; laughter was the brightest crystal in their snowflake family. Anne bellowed over Glenn's response about the similarities between Santa Claus and James and how he thought his dad was Santa Claus undercover as a regular dad when she glanced out the window.

"Oh, my! Oh my goodness!" Her hand went to her throat, and her eyes grew as big as Oreos with the frosting showing. "I can't… Is it really … Snow is falling."

"Honey," James put his hands on her shoulders, "You got your snow. I don't know how. But you got it." He laughed in disbelief, shaking his head.

"Well, I" ll be …," Stan was in shock. "We're never going to hear the end of this."

The four of them stood in front of the window like it was a camera and were instructed to bunch close and show wonderment. The snowflakes piled on top of one another, blanketing the ground in a familiar way as it had for years. Anne's heart quieted within her as her favorite men surrounded her. She knew in her heart of hearts that Christmas would continue to be covered with the ones she loves.