I stopped solving every problem before someone experienced it.
That was harder than I expected.
When Marcy forgot to reserve airport parking for a trip, I knew exactly how to fix it.
I said nothing.
She fixed it herself.
The world continued.
By the following December, the family wanted another gathering.
This time, Ryan suggested a lodge near Columbus so nobody had to drive more than three hours.
Marcy made a shared budget.
Beth volunteered for groceries.
Neil handled the rental.
Colleen said she would make breakfast Christmas morning.
Everyone paid before anything was booked.
I was given one job.
Dessert.
I brought two pies.
That was all.
When Neil and I arrived, nobody asked where the wine was.
Nobody handed me a grocery list.
Nobody said the house needed more decorations.
My suitcase contained clothes.
Not extension cords.
Not aluminum pans.
Not extra dish towels.
Just clothes.
Christmas Eve afternoon, I sat by the window reading while three people argued cheerfully in the kitchen about stuffing.
At one point, Colleen walked past me carrying a bowl.
She stopped.
“You’re sitting down.”
“I am.”
She looked toward the kitchen.
Then back at me.
