We were packing up Christmas stuff. Farewell to Joseph, Mary, the Christ Child, the running shepherds, and the wise men... one kneeling... the others just arriving.
We were wrapping them in paper, tucking them into the creche, and then placing the whole package into the box.
After this we were taping up the boxes. Sealing them against breaking, tipping, and damage.
I was kneeling on the floor. My knees were kind of sore. I was about to tape up the box.
Michael walked over. He pulled the tape from me. "Gaga? Please I do it? Please Gaga?"
I almost said no. This was our nativity. If it broke it would never be the same. I took the tape back and started to shake me head.
And then... I stopped.
I looked at the small blond boy. The boy I had prayed for. The boy who has hair like most of us. Blond. It comes from Daddy.
His blue eyes. Questioning my choice.
He wanted so badly to be a big boy. To do big things.
Little Michael JoeJoe. Trying too hard to be good and be sweet.
I remembered that there is 15 years between us. That when I am 30 he'll be 15. I will be gone maybe. Perhaps in a house of my own (hopefully).
I remembered that next year he'll be packing the nativity himself. His fingers won't be sticky. His mouth won't be covered in Chocolate. His hair won't stand up on end.
He will be bigger. He will still be young, but the wonder of a two year old will be gone.
I tore a piece of tape of and handed it to him.
"Put it here Michael."
He looked at me.
"Thank you Gaga. I love you best!"
A tight hug.
A sticky kiss.
I love you best too, Michael.
Love, your big sister, Jessica