Page 36 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

When I laid back, my old, gnarled fingers still tracing the letters she’d carved into the wood, I prayed that I’d make it through one more day.

One more day, and then she’d be with me again.

I did dream of her, too.

But the dream still broke my heart, just like it always did when I revisited that particular one.

It didn’t make it any less sweet, though. Even when it came with so much heartache.

Chapter

Twenty

The only package I want this Christmas is yours.

—Mary to Dixie

DIXIE

Past

It was so cold, and I knew that she was fighting to stay awake.

A small smile overtook her face when I dropped down to my haunches at her side.

“Hey,” she rasped.

“Hey, baby.” I ran my thumb over her cheek. “You need anything?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m finally…”

Ready.

She was finally ready.

Though she hadn’t voiced it yet.

“I know you are, honey.” I tried and failed to keep the tears at bay. “And I’m okay. We’re going to be okay. You can go.”

She looked around the empty room.

She’d told everyone to go home.

Today was Christmas.

We’d had a long day of opening presents.

Our children and grandchildren had just left, leaving us alone for the first time in days.

“I made it,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

She had.

She’d told me she wanted to make it to one more anniversary.

“Dix?” she whispered.

“Yeah?” I caught her hand in mine.

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