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WILLOW

“Her love is the spark that lights up my world.”— M

T he soft thuds of tiny feet hitting the floor wakes me from a deep, peaceful sleep — a delightful surprise after the madness of wrapping gifts with Madden late into the night. The man goes out every year but this year he truly brought Santa’s Toy Shop to our home for the kids.

I crack open my eyes, still feeling tired, just as I hear a chorus of sweet and adorable giggles—a sound so pure and full of joy it can only mean one thing.

My sunshine boys are up.

“Wake up! Mommy! Daddy! Wake up!” The excitement in their voices is infectious, their words bubbling with the kind of anticipation only Christmas morning can bring. Reaching for my cochlear implant, I put it on so I don’t miss a single word. I never want to miss anything my perfect boys say to me, or my husband.

The weight of two small bodies launches onto the bed, their excited squeals filling our bedroom like music. Sticky kisses bombard my cheeks, little lips pressing against my skin with giggles that feel like warm sunshine on a cold morning.

Oh, how beautiful this life of mine…

“Mommy! Daddy! Santa Claus came!” Maverick’s voice rings out, high-pitched and full of wonder. “He came with lots of presents!”

I open my eyes wide, blinking against the soft morning light, to see my Irish twin boys —Maverick and Wade — whose tousled hair sticking up in all directions like wild little hedgehogs. They’re a blur of red and white pajamas, matching Madden and me, their beautiful faces glowing with the magic of Christmas.

Their eyes sparkle like stars, and the joy radiating from them is as infectious as the holiday itself. I love seeing them— Madden and our mini-mes. Maverick is all me, with blue eyes that shine bright every time he smiles and curly brown hair. Wade, on the other hand, is a mini version of his father, with black hair and deep, beautiful dark eyes.

What sounds like a grown man whining comes from next to me on the bed.

I turn to Madden, who is still buried under the covers, a soft chuckle escaping him as he tries to shield himself from his sons’ attack. “They’re like little monsters,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep, though his smile unmistakable. “Go to bed. It’s still too early. We open presents at nine.”

Nine? No way.

“Nonsense!” I reply, pulling myself up into a sitting position and gathering my boys into my arms. The moment I hug them, their giggles explode in the air, their tiny bodies squirming with excitement. “Santa came! How exciting! I bet he ate all the waffles we left them.” I use my voice with my boys even though their father decided they should learn sign language too.

I no longer hide my voice because Madden’s love gave me the confidence I needed to be myself in a world where differences should be celebrated. Madden helped me realize that my voice is beautiful simply because it’s a part of who I am, and if someone has a problem with it, that’s their issue, not mine.

My mother was also a huge influence. She may not fit society’s idea of perfection, but to me, she is everything. If she can stand proud in the world without hiding who she is, then so can I.

“Can we go see the tree?” Maverick begs, his eyes wide with anticipation, his little hands reaching out to play with a curl of mine.

“Please, Mommy!” Wade chimes in, bouncing on the bed like a ball of energy, unable to contain his excitement for another second.

I glance at the clock—far too early for most people, but we’re not most people, I feel no trace of exhaustion. Christmas morning has a way of making everything feel timeless, like a dream that stretches out forever and my family deserves all the magic. “Of course, we can! Come on! The presents are waiting!”

With that, the boys scramble off the bed, their little feet pitter-pattering on the floor as they race to the door, nearly tripping over each other as they laugh out loud. I laugh softly, shaking my head as I slip on my fluffy slippers and follow them into the living room.

Madden isn’t far behind, yawning and looking grumpy as he emerges from beneath the covers.

“Next year, we’re paying to have the presents put together and wrapped. That shit gets exhausting every year,” he grumbles.

“Oh, hush,” I tease, rolling my eyes. “You say the same thing every year, and yet you always end up doing everything yourself.”

“This year, I mean it,” he says, his tone more serious but still laced with exhaustion.

“Just like you meant it last year?” I raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look.

Before I can say anything else, Madden suddenly runs up behind me, pulling me into his arms and showering my face with kisses. “What happened to my sweet, shy wife?” he teases. “Who is this sassy minx?”

I laugh, squirming in his arms. “She’s still here, but she’s learned a thing or two about keeping you on your toes, Mr. Hunt.”

He laughs before kissing me softly and robbing me of air. When he pulls back and breaks the kiss, one of our boys squeals in delight. “No way!”

Both Madden and I turn and the sight that greets us is nothing short of magical—a scene straight out of a storybook. Our Christmas tree stands tall in the corner, its twinkling lights dancing like stars against the darkened room. Ornaments, each one chosen by every member of this family, sparkle from every branch. Beneath it, a mountain of brightly wrapped presents sit in a perfect array, their colorful paper shimmering under the soft glow of the multi-colored lights. The scent of fresh pine fills the air, mingling with the warmth of our home and the sweet promise of holiday magic and wonder.

“Go crazy, boys!” I urge my sons forward.

“Wow!” Maverick gasps, his voice filled with awe as he and Wade run toward the tree, practically pulling me along in their wake. “So many presents!”

“Look at all the gifts!” My baby, Wade exclaims, his eyes wide as he points to the colorful packages. “Santa really came!”

“He did, my babies.” I clap my hands happily. “I told you he would!”

I turn and see my husband walking toward the plate of half-eaten waffles, and points at it. “The fat bastard ate most of the waffles, boys.”

“Wow!” Maverick shouts, his face lighting up with amusement. Wade giggles beside him, clearly just as entertained by the sight of their father devouring cold waffles.

A tiny hand wraps around me, and I look down to see my Wade, who looks and acts like his father most of the time but has the sweetest heart. He lifts his tiny hand and signs while saying the words: “I love you, Mommy.”

My heart squeezes with all the love I feel for my tiny, wonderful humans.

I sign back at the same time I whisper, “I love you, Wade.”

He smiles up at me, and I savor that smile, etching it into my memory to treasure forever. Then, with a burst of energy, he runs off after his brother, his laughter filling the room.

I watch them, my heart swelling with love and gratitude as they tear open their gifts. Laughter and shrieks of joy fill the room as they discover toy after toy. Some are ones they’ve been asking for all year, while others are surprises Madden and I picked out, knowing they’d go wild with excitement.

I exchange a knowing glance with Madden, who stands leaning against the wall, a proud and gentle smile tugging at his lips. There is something about seeing our boys so full of life and joy that makes everything feel like a dream come true.

“Look, Mom! It’s the car I wanted. Broom! Broom!” Wade shouts, holding up a box with wide-eyed wonder. He is practically bouncing on his toes, unable to believe that he got the toy he asked for.

Filled with love, I kneel beside my babies, feeling my heart bloom with so much I watch their eyes light up as they open their presents. “I think Santa knew exactly what you wanted,” I say, ruffling Wade’s hair as he hugs the miniature version of his Dad’s F1 car to his chest.

For the next hour, we become lost in the sweet joy of Christmas morning—wrapping paper flying everywhere, laughter echoing, and our hearts full to bursting. The boys continue unwrapping gift after gift, their giggles and shouts of surprise filling our home with joy and so much love. And as we watch our humans playing around us, Madden and I exchange smiles, knowing that these are the moments that we will treasure in our hearts forever.

Suddenly, the boys jump up and race to the back of the tree, grabbing a big box between the two of them before running back to me. “Merry Christmas, Mommy! Santa didn’t forget about you!”

“Open it!” The boys place the funny wrapped gift in front of me, then sign enthusiastically. “We helped Santa with your present, Mommy. Daddy did too!” Maverick looks back at his father for reassurance, and Madden smiles at his boys, encouraging them.

“Oh, thank you, my three hearts.” I giggle as I tickle the boys, then beam up at my husband. He winks at me, making my heart race. I tear open the gift to find a beautiful mushroom terrarium, and my breath catches.

So sweet. So, loving.

I can hardly believe how lucky I am to be their mom, to be sharing this beautiful, colorful, and wonderful life with them. With Madden by my side and our boys, who brought so much love and laughter into our world.

“Thank you, angel boys,” I whisper, kissing the tops of their heads.

Both boys sign, “ Love you more, angel mom. ”

Impossible.

With a smile on my face, I lean back and soak it all in. The living room decorations, the tree, the laughter of my boys—it all feels like a dream. A dream I don’t ever want to wake up from.

I smile to myself, my heart brimming with happiness, knowing that this Christmas—this moment with the love of my life and our beautiful boys—will be a memory that lasts a lifetime. And as I look at Madden and then our kids, I wish I could freeze this moment in time and keep them this young forever.

But one day, Wade and Maverick will be men, chasing after their own dreams. Until then, Madden and I will be here, keeping them safe, loved, and believing in magic.

Because that’s exactly what we are—magic.