text: Christmas was never the same after the year I turned fifteen. Of course, I was nearing the end of puberty. Like other boys my age, I had a dark air around me. The storm of it washed away the naivete of my childhood. My mother, a crude and cold woman called it, "finally growing a pair". She wasn't the same after that year either. Not when my father had the nerve to die the day before Christmas Eve. I was a quiet child. My mother was loud. She and her girlfriends were like catbirds fighting with crows at all hours of the day. Now that my father was gone, their favorite prey was me. But I do not like to dwell on my mother. She was gone now too. I had no other family to give me grief about skipping her funeral. She didn't deserve one. If I had my way, I would've found a tall hill with soft dirt, so the ground would never settle, and she would never rest. Many of the people I consider friends call me cynical, rude, and depressed. The truth is that these people are just the people I share an office with. I had no choice but to talk to them. They were kind. It was something I didn't understand. We worked in a labyrinth of cubicles. The only sound was phones ringing and the ruffling of paper, but every once in a while there was a sound that brought life to the dense office space. Caroline's laughter. I took every chance to feign thirst at the water cooler just so I could watch her twirl her blonde hair as she laughed with the person on the other end of the phone. Depressed was her descriptor of me. I take the same path home every night after work. I'm a creature of habit, and stubborn like my mother. Construction had started along the path over the weekend. It was nearing six, but there was still a team of workers working under the glare of flood lights. I thought I might be able to sneak through as they were distracted, and that's exactly what I did. There was incoherent yelling behind me, but I kept my head down and walked quicker. I was sure the yelling was about me until I heard a terrible hissing, and I hit the ground hard. "Jamie, it's Caroline. Can you hear me?" Caroline? Who's Caroline? The first thing I saw was her blonde hair lit up like a halo by the light from the window. She was beautiful. I wish I knew who she was. I couldn't find my words, so all I did was point at her like an idiot. "I'm Caroline. Do you remember?" I shook my head. "What do you remember?" I shook my head again. Caroline sighed. There was something about her that was familiar. I just couldn't think of it. She leaned back in her seat and twirled her hair between her fingers. That's what it was. Her hair. Her beautiful hair. I pointed at her again. "Caroline." She sat up again and laughed. I laughed too. Even though it caused me an awful headache. Her laugh was like waking to songbirds on a Saturday morning. It was easy and bright. "What did I do?" She looked at me like I said something wrong. "You didn't do anything. You got hurt. They said you were walking through a construction site and one of the cranes failed while you were underneath it. You could've died." I would've preferred death. I may not remember much, but I know not to say that in front of her. She was here with me in the hospital. I didn't know of anyone else that would do that for me. "I don't remember." "I know, but it'll come back to you." She scrunched her eyebrows and took my hand. "Listen. I talked to the nurses and convinced them to let me take you home when you're ready. Home with me, that is. But, since it's Christmas Eve I'll have a lot of family over so it might be awkward." I felt like a lost puppy wandering on the side of the street getting picked up by a stranger, but she was the perfect stranger. "Okay." "Okay? That's it? You're alright with staying with me for a bit?" I nodded, and she scolded me for moving my head too much. Two excruciatingly long days in the hospital later, I was put into Caroline's Honda Civic, and we made the treacherous drive in the snow to her home. As we drove, she pointed out to me locations I should remember. The park, our office, and the grocery store where we always buy snacks for the break room. She said Pringles were my favorite. I rubbed at the gauze wrapped around my head. I grew increasingly frustrated at the fact that I couldn't remember any of it. The only consolation was having her next to me. It was even more frustrating that I didn't know why. We got to her townhouse twenty minutes later. A Christmas wreath hung on her door and her windows were plastered with stickers of Santa and snowmen. "What about my stuff? Don't I have things I'll need?" "The doctor said it might be too stressful. Don't worry, I have an extra toothbrush and a change of clothes. We'll go over to your place tomorrow." She brought me in and introduced me to her family. The whole lot of them. Her parents, her aunt and uncle, and her two nieces and nephew running around the living room. It was a surprise they all fit in her small home. I was bombarded with them telling me, "We're so happy to meet you," and "We're so sorry to hear about what happened". "We can leave and get some breakfast if this is too much," Caroline whispered to me. But I shook my head. She took me up to her spare bedroom. "I kicked the kids out so you'll have your own space. They'll be down on the air mattress in the living room." She scrunched her eyebrows at me like she did in the hospital. "Say something, please. I know we didn't know each other that well, so if this is too much for you just say so." It was perfect. More than perfect. I knew my life was bleak and dark. Caroline was kind enough to take me into her life, even for a short time. I didn't know anything of love, but if I had to guess, this was the start of it. "It's good. Thank you." She hummed. "That crane must've hit you hard. I've never heard you thank anyone." She left me to get settled. There were clothes on the bed that I changed into. The jeans hung above my ankles, but I was happy to change. The clothes I was wearing stunk of sweat and were covered in my blood. I came downstairs and was greeted with a beer from Caroline's uncle. Her mother immediately took it away from me. "He just got out of the hospital, George. He can't be drinking." It was almost funny. If my head didn't hurt so bad I would've laughed. I hung around the kitchen the rest of the afternoon. Caroline was helping her aunt bake cinnamon rolls and Christmas cookies. Since I refused to go back up and rest, Caroline put me to work. It was mostly making sure the mixer didn't fall over. "So, Jamie," Caroline's aunt started, "I hear you two work together. How is that?" I looked at Caroline and she smiled at me. "Um, it's good. I enjoy it." Caroline was the only thing I remembered. She was the only thing I wanted to remember. Throughout the day I had flashes of my life. I saw the office we worked in and our coworkers. I remembered how much of an asshole I was to everyone. I couldn't remember my childhood, except my mother. I wished that crane hit me harder so I could forget her altogether. I looked around Caroline's home. I looked at her family trying desperately to talk over the Christmas music her mother put on, and the kids stealing fresh cookies that just came out of the oven. It was warm, unlike what my life was like. "Caroline, can I talk to you?" She shared a look with her aunt and followed me to her spare bedroom. She sat on the bed with me and waited for me to speak. "I've been remembering things, and I want to apologize if I've been rude to you in the past. I haven't had an easy life and I let that affect me for way too long. I'm sorry, Caroline. I do really like you. I wish I talked to you more." She laughed again. "You really don't remember? I tried so hard to talk to you, but all you did was shut people out. I think that crane did you good." "Is that why you were the only one in the hospital with me?" "I'm sure they'll have a card or a little get-together when you go back to work." I smiled pitifully at her. "You know they won't. I'm not a good person. An accident like this," I pointed at my head, "doesn't change that. Does it make sense if I say I want to be better for you-like you?" "Yes, it makes sense." She placed her hand gently on my cheek. "Why don't we go back downstairs and get a cookie before the kids eat them all?" We ate cookies and cinnamon rolls until we felt sick. The sugar rush distracted me from the pain of my wound. Caroline distracted me even further. She was the light I was missing in my life. I couldn't say it enough. It was frustrating that I lost my memories, but Caroline was the opportunity to make new ones.