“Where are you going?”
I stopped zipping my coat and stared at Mom. “Down to Dave’s place.” Mom knew who they were and that Dave, a year younger than I, was my friend while his brother, Mark, a year older, was in my brother’s circle.
“No, you’re not.”
“How come? I have all this neat stuff to show him and I want to see what he got.”
“There’ll be time enough for that tomorrow. Today, we stay home.”
I didn’t give up. “Why?”
“This is a holiday for family. On Christmas, we stay home.”
“But …”
“I’m not going to fight. If Dave comes up here, you can go out and play. If he doesn’t, you stay in. Got it?”
I grumbled in sullen defeat. “Okay.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t like my siblings. However, we’d all seen each other at our best and worst, frequently against one another. But family, much as we were bound, wasn’t like friends who played a large part in our lives.
I flopped sideways on an overstuffed chair and concentrated on the presents. My gifts pleased me. A large, weighted chess set in an unusual style was my favorite this year, and I looked forward to a game. My little sisters twittered about their usual collection of dolls with clothes and accessories. However, my older brother got a board game that all of us could play and enjoy.
After dinner, the adults stayed in the dining room for a card game and talk, but we kids gathered in the living room with the TV off. Bob opened his game in front of us and we chose our tokens.
I rolled the dice. A two. Not enough to get me into the Dining Room. I passed the dice to Terri.
On occasion, I enjoyed being family.
William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.