Epilogue - A Year Well Spent

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     January fifth was a bittersweet day for the Lister household. It was the last day of winter break for the Cranberg School, so Alma would head back to her job the following day. Standing in our backyard dressed in winter coats, Alma and I watched as Jack and Emily, with Homer romping joyously between them, packed snow for the most oddly shaped snowman ever devised.      

 

     Watching my two children, I found myself imagining both as adults. Now face to face with Homer and looking so much like her mother, I knew my grown-up Emily would become a veterinarian – her determination and love of animals would dictate no less.

 

     As I watched Jack crouch next to his sister, I couldn’t help marveling at the young man he would grow into. Having turned four years old just two days earlier, my son was in the process of rounding out the lower edges of the snowman with a toy he had smuggled underneath his winter coat.

 

     Creative and caring, my son’s future possibilities seemed endless. Entrepreneur, social worker, diplomat – I knew helping his fellow human beings would be central to any profession Jack chose.

 

     Turning from the kids, I looked at the beautiful woman next to me. I never quite figured out why Alma had agreed to marry me; I just knew enough to thank God that she had.

 

     My wife turned to face me, her face wearing the same smile I had fallen in love with on a college campus so many years before. Squeezing my hand, Alma then asked the question I had considered maybe a thousand times in the year that had just passed.

 

     “When you started working from home, we said we would revisit things after a year. I know the money’s been good, but is this something you can see yourself doing long-term?”

 

     I looked back at Emily and Jack, now armed with snowballs, both inching dangerously closer to what they hoped were their unsuspecting parents.

 

     At that moment, the answer couldn’t have been more obvious. “To be honest, I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”

 

     Alma’s smile grew even wider then, even as she maneuvered herself behind me for snowball protection.

 

     “You sound like a man who re-discovered his soul.”

 

     I glanced again at our children, now definitely within striking range, and prepared myself for battle.

 

     “Sometimes,” I told Alma, “it’s just in knowing where to look.”