Christmas came and went with little fanfare.
I woke to a group of people singing in the distance. At first, I couldn’t quite make out the words, but as they drew closer, I recognized a song as a carol from my childhood. I sat up and peered out the window as their quiet reverie ushered in a day of emotional turmoil. The sun hadn’t risen but I could make out dark silhouettes as they passed below. I climbed back under the covers.
Their voices faded and the wave of nostalgia ebbed back into darkness. Soon they were gone, and I was alone.
Finnr knocked on my door soon after and told me to sleep in, which I did without hesitation. As my thoughts turned inward, I tried to trace them back in time to find some meaning to the randomness. I fell back asleep before I could make any sense.
Anna came over after sunrise. We all gathered around the table, telling stories from past holidays. Some I understood, others I didn’t. Nobody had gifts to exchange, not that it mattered anyway. The stories trailed off and we sat, ruminating in silence. I looked up from my lap to see Halla reach across the table, arms outstretched. I set my hands in hers. They were callused; weathered. I wondered if mine were the same. Anna joined in. Finnr and Aldan followed. Nothing was said, but words were unnecessary. This was something we all needed.
A few days later, Anna and I attended a vigil for members of the community that we had lost. It was a somber event marking the end of a tumultuous year. We stood on the outskirts, listening to what we could. She leaned her head on my shoulder and whispered translations when I couldn’t make out certain words. A storm was building to the north and snow was already falling in the waning light. After the vigil, we walked back to Einar’s old house and stood outside, holding hands. After weeks of repairs, it was finally ours.
It felt foreign to me. Like it wasn’t my own. The house was empty except for a few photos of random landscapes hanging on the walls. We didn’t have the heart to get rid of Einar’s family portraits. They lay buried in a small closet underneath a few empty suitcases. The smell of earth permeated everything and the floor creaked under my weight as I entered. The storm had set in, rattling the shutters back and forth as the last bit of light refracted off our breath.
Even in my wildest dreams, I never could have imagined this last year and the toll it would take on me. I’ve aged a lifetime, but here we are. As I lie in bed, listening to the wind howling, I can feel Anna breathing next to me. I’m unsure if this house will ever be my home, but I’m determined to try.