Auld Langsyne

I was at peace. Finally. And perhaps for the first time in my life.

I heard the door slide open, then close behind me. I sipped the glass of Tawny port, heard my mother's feet crunch through the thing layer of packed snow on the deck before she appeared beside me.

"'It's the most wonderful time of the year . . .'" she sang. My mother would never lose her choir voice, I knew.

I smiled, dipping my head a moment before looking to the woman who had given me life. "Yes, it is."

"You're putting on a brave front, Danny," she said, touching my arm the way mothers did. The gesture was both motherly patronizing as well as maturely encouraging. "I know it's not easy for you right now."

My smile didn't fade. "Honestly, it's not as bad as I was afraid it would be. If it wasn't for you, and Dad, and . . . and everyone else here, I'd be sitting at home, drinking myself to oblivion. But I'm not. This really is the best Christmas I could hope for."

My mother's brow furrowed in confusion. "It is?"

I turned toward her, leaning against the snow-covered railing. "It is. Because I think I've figured out what happiness is."

My mother cocked her head, giving me a curious look. "Would you care to share?"

I chuckled. "Happiness is . . . ." I thought a moment, looking out across Mom's snow-covered back yard, the dark, cloudless sky overhead, the glittering stars above.

"Happiness is knowing love when it is there, and accepting love for what it is."

My mother patted my shoulder. "Dan . . . I think you've finally grown up."

I smiled.

***

Merry Christmas. I hope you enjoyed this tale inspired, in part, by Dan Fogelberg's timeless classic, "Same Old Lang Syne." If you are so inclined, please vote, and even leave a comment if you wish.