Chapter 10 - The Unbreakable Engine
Six months later. Christmas Eve again.
The living room of my new farmhouse smelled of gingerbread, vanilla, and woodsmoke. A magnificent, ten-foot pine tree stood in the corner, decorated not with expensive glass ornaments, but with hundreds of handmade paper stars, silver tinsel, and drawings the children had made throughout the year.
The room was filled with family—my mother, my father, Garrett, and a few close neighbors who had stood by us through the storm.
Tyler was sitting on the thick rug near the hearth, completely absorbed in his play. He wasn't playing with a fragile toy. He had a massive, circular track set up, and running smoothly along the rails was the heavy cast-iron train engine his grandfather had given him, pulling four beautifully painted wooden cars that we had restored together.
The train clicked and clacked against the tracks, a steady, rhythmic sound that felt like the heartbeat of our new home.
Melody walked out from the kitchen, holding a tray of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, her pink tablet tucked under her arm. She set the tray on the coffee table, then walked over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
"Mom?" she whispered, looking up at me.
"Yes, my love?"
"We didn't record this morning," she said, tapping her tablet. "Do you want me to set up the video?"
I looked around the room—at my parents laughing with Garrett, at Tyler making train noises by the fire, and at the emerald ring catching the warm golden light of the Christmas tree. I pulled my daughter close, kissing the top of her head.
May you like
"No, sweetie," I smiled softly, letting the peace of the room wash over me. "We don't need a recording this year. Some memories are so strong, they stay right here forever."
Outside, the snow fell gently against the windowpanes, but inside, the engine kept rolling forward, unbreakable, safe, and finally home.
