"Amy?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Can you help me set the table?"

"Sure." Amy rose from her seat on the sofa and slipped into the kitchen to help her mother. Lydia Sykes and Amy's younger sister, Jordan, were busy cooking Christmas dinner. Almost everything was done, Lydia was just putting things on serving dishes, and Jordan was fixing salad. Amy hadn't done much of the cooking.

Christmas was usually Amy's favorite holiday, but this year, she had a lot on her mind. She had just finished her military service, a tour in Kabul, and was feeling somewhat lost without a distinct objective to accomplish. Her family had picked her up from the airport, brought her home, and coddled her for the past two weeks. She liked being able to sleep in on Saturdays, liked playing with her nieces and nephews, liked the security of her own home, but there was still something missing.

"How many settings?" she asked.

"Sixteen," her mother replied. "Five at the children's table and twelve at the regular table. Everyone's coming over."

Sweet Jesus, Amy thought. Her sister's kids, her brothers' three, their spouses, a great-aunt, and an assortment of aunts and uncles. "Sure."

"What's on your mind, baby?" Lydia was still stirring something over the stove, and Amy couldn't see her face. Jordan picked up a tray of crackers and cheese and ducked back out to the living room.

"Just a few things," Amy replied vaguely. "Gold or rose china?"

"Let's use the gold."

Amy took the appropriate dishes out of a cabinet and began setting the table. The sounds of Michael Bublé drifted in faintly from the other room.

"I can always tell when you're thinking about something, Bunny." The use of her old pet name startled Amy. She hadn't heard the term in ages. "Tell me what it is."

Amy considered her options for a moment. She could tell her mother she wasn't thinking of anything important, or she could just tell the truth. The truth is always the best option, and she'd figure it out anyway. She opened her mouth and let the frank words spill out. "I need something to do, Mom. I mean, it's great that you've been so good about letting me stay here and do nothing, but I can't stay here forever. I just can't figure out what I want to do. Everything seems so. . ." She trailed off, at a rare loos for words. "So mundane! I felt like I was doing important work, and everything here just seems so mundane."

Lydia turned and raised her eyebrows. "That's not the Amy Sykes I know."

Amy sighed as she slid napkins under the forks. "I don't even know where to start, honestly."

Lydia began moving steamed carrots from the pan to a serving dish. As she finished, Amy took the dish and set it on the table. They continued in that fashion until everything was on the dining table.

"I'll go get everyone." Amy moved towards the living room, but her mother pulled her back.

"Amy,  I think I know just the job for you," Lydia said, eyes sparkling.

"What?" Amy looked at her curiously.

"Go call everyone in for dinner, and then ask Mickey what he wants to be when he grows up."

Mickey was Amy's youngest nephew, only four years old. He was due to start kindergarten the following year, and was looking forward to it, from what she'd heard. He and his parents had arrived late, so Amy hadn't seen the boy yet. She nodded, then walked out to the living room.

"Dinner's ready, guys!" she called over the general noise. The hubbub subsided somewhat, and everyone swirled into the dining room to take their places. Amy hung back, and side-stepped to the kids' table. "Hey, Mickey-"

"AUNT AMY!" He hugged her legs tightly, and she smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Hey, bud." She knelt down. "Gramma had a question she wanted me to ask you."

"Yeah?"

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I wanna be a please offer."

She paused. "Police officer?"

"Yeah!"

She pushed him gently towards his chair. "Thanks, Mick. Go eat your dinner, I think Sammy's waiting for you." She stood and found the last open chair at the table, next to her mother. Her father blessed the meal, and they dug in.

Lydia passed a bowl of salad down the table and turned to Amy. "So? What do you think?"

"A police officer?"

"It's not mundane. It sounds like you. And God knows, the L.A.P.D.  is always hiring people."

Amy looked down at her plate and took a sip of water. Lydia was right, policing was a lot like her last job. Maybe too much. She wasn't sure she wanted to be right back in that kind of field so soon. But at the same time, it was what she'd been looking for. "Maybe."

"Maybe not?" Lydia asked. She had read into Amy's pause.

"I don't know yet." She thought back to the letters from colleges that had greeted her from the mailbox when she'd first arrived home. "Maybe I'll try school again and see where that takes me."

"School?" Lydia sounded slightly surprised.

"Most jobs require some kind of college degree. And it's not like I don't have money saved up."

Lydia hummed noncommittally. "School might be nice for you. You could make some friends, have some fun."

"Yeah, maybe." College would be a good start. There would be any number of opportunities stemming from a college diploma. I could be anything I want, and it'll be exciting, without being too much at once. "I think I might look over some of those letters tomorrow."

"Alright."