Chief Brokka steps out of the fire station across the street, catching my eye. He gives me a nod and a smile. He and Grum have mended fences, probably due to Grum’s change of heart. Now, Brokka, his wife Marissa, son, Na’tunn, and daughter, Thalia, are regulars at our family barbecues.
A commotion draws my attention. I turn to see Bold, still head of Zone security, helping a group of children decorate the enormous Christmas tree in the square. His usual stern expression is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a soft smile as he lifts a little naga girl to place a snowflake near the top.
We don’t use stars anymore, since orc tradition is four-pointed, Christian tradition is five-pointed, and Jewish tradition is six-pointed. We decided snowflakes are all-inclusive, just the way our celebrations are.
“Mama! Papa! Look what I made!”
I turn to see our three-year-old daughter, Holly, toddling toward us, a slightly lopsided paper snowflake clutched in her tiny green hands. Her amber eyes, so like her father’s, sparkle with pride.
Grum scoops her up, his face softening in that special way reserved only for his little girl. “It’s beautiful, sprout. Just like you.”
I lean into Grum’s side, our little family a perfect unit. “It’s amazing, sweetie. Want to hang it in the window?”
As Holly nods enthusiastically, the bell over the shop door jingles. Kam and Emma walk in, their daughter Sari racing ahead to tackle Grum’s legs.
“Uncle Grum! Aunt Joy!” she trills.
Emma laughs, one hand resting on her very pregnant belly. “Sorry, guys. She’s been excited about helping decorate all day.”
I wave off her apology. “The more, the merrier! Isn’t that what the holidays are all about?”
This is a good time of year to reflect. My journey with Grum hasn’t always been easy. We’re two different species and come from such different backgrounds, of course we’ve had our share of arguments and misunderstandings. Particularly in the early days when we were still learning to communicate and compromise. But each challenge has only made our bond stronger, our love deeper.
As our friends gather, filling the shop with laughter and chatter, I’m struck by how far we’ve come. From a divided community to a thriving example of integration and acceptance. From strangers brought together by circumstance to a family bound by love and shared experiences.
Grum catches my eye across the room, and I see his gaze change from the happy family male to the mate who wants this impromptu party to end so we can put Holly to sleep and start our own intimate lovefest in bed.
“Look at the time. Have we had enough merriment for one day?” I glance at my phone with a meaningful look, not embarrassed in the least if my friends know exactly what I’d like to be doing with my husband the moment our daughter conks out for the night.
“Speaking of merry,” Kam says with a mischievous glint in his eye, “remember when our resident Grinch here used to growl at anyone who even hummed a Christmas carol?”
Brokka laughs. “Oh yes! And the time he tried to ‘accidentally’ break the music speaker at the station two days before Christmas?”
“Hey now,” Grum protests good-naturedly, “I was just testing its durability.”
“Right,” Thornn chimes in, “just like you were ‘testing the structural integrity’ of all those wreaths I hung up.”
“Face it, big guy,” Emma teases, “you’ve gone soft. Next thing you know, you’ll be leading the caroling group.”
“I draw the line at singing,” Grum huffs, but I catch the smile he’s trying to hide.
“Don’t worry,” Kam quips, “we won’t tell anyone your secret—that underneath all that green grumpiness beats the heart of a true Christmas elf.”
The room erupts in laughter, and even Grum joins in. These moments, filled with friendship and joy, are what make life special.
I know that this—this moment, this life, this love—is the greatest gift of all. And it all started with one grumpy orc, one Christmas-obsessed human, and a whole lot of holiday magic.
I guess my Grinch didn’tstealChristmas, hesavedit.
Here’s to many more Merry Christmases and happy holidays to come.
