“What’s going on out here?”

Kelley half turns his head and beckons with his free arm for Mitzi to join them. She settles on the other side of Bart and the three of them grasp one another.

Kelley remembers a crèche that his mother used to have, with painted figurines and a manger with a thatched roof. Kelley and Avery used to set it up each year: shepherds, wise men, cows, sheep, goats, the Holy Family, and the angel, who hung on a hook at the peak of the roof.

As he and Mitzi cradle Bart, Kelley thinks about how Joseph and Mary must have felt on the original Christmas night. The word illuminated in front of Kelley is joy, but what Kelley feels is something more profound. It is, perhaps, the oldest and purest of all Christmas emotions.

Wonder.

January 1, 2017

Dear Family and Friends,

I apologize for the tardiness of this holiday letter. As you will soon understand, the past year has been chock-full of news, so many dramatic developments that instead of a letter, I should be writing a novel.

Kelley stops typing and stares at the screen. He should write a novel. Is that the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst? He can’t tell. It’s January first; people all across America are making resolutions: lose weight, spend less time on the phone and more time with the kids, make one new dish per week, enhance vocabulary, volunteer, clean and organize the garage, lose weight, investigate the family’s genealogy, go green, save money, lose weight.

Kelley makes a resolution. He is going to write a novel.

And forget the Christmas letter! He’s going to start right now, this instant.

He doesn’t have any time to waste.