Mom, Dad, and I stood out on the porch waving our good-byes until we couldn’t take the cold anymore. I helped Mom clean up the dishes in the living room and basement, and then grabbed my duffel and froze. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Um … do I still have a room?”

She laughed and hugged me. “Of course! We barely even changed it; all I did was clean.”

“Well, that in and of itself would render it completely unrecognizable.” I winked.

“Tell me about it!”

It was spooky, like stepping into a time warp. Movie posters for Terminator and Star Wars were still on the wall; my desk still stood in the corner by the window and sported framed photos of my family and myself with friends from high school. My dresser, my bed—everything waited for me right where I had left it.

Mom came in as I was crawling under the covers. “Man, just like high school. Checking to see if I have my alarm set?”

She chuckled. “No, just coming to say good night.” She smiled. “I miss having you around, Jack. It’s good having you home.” She sat on the bed and tousled my hair. “Seeing you on TV isn’t nearly as good. Exciting, but not as fun.” She waggled her eyebrows, and we laughed. She leaned over and kissed my forehead. “’Night, kiddo. See you in the morning.”

She left and closed the door quietly behind her, and I basked in the warmth of home.

Christmas Day was joyful chaos. We opened gifts late in the morning, and everyone was tremendously gracious toward me considering that I’d brought no gifts whatsoever. In the early afternoon we sat down to a massive dinner. I wore out the phrase, “This is so good,” about two minutes into the meal; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a homecooked dinner. I ate till I thought I’d be ill, but for the first time that feeling wasn’t so bad. And when I realized there would be leftovers for later, I was thrilled all over again.

After dinner everyone split up like they had the night before, but this time I headed into the kitchen to help with the dishes. Mom could barely believe it. “Never once did you do the dishes without me issuing threats!” she laughed. I couldn’t explain it to her, but I wanted to be with her and my aunts, and especially Abby, whose motherhood and stable life simply awed me. I missed the company of guileless, uncomplicated women; I needed the reminder that they existed.