Next on the agenda was finding an assistant. I reached out to some recruiters to start that process. Because of the time of year, I wasn’t expecting any results for at least a month. The replies I got confirmed my assumptions. Though I could discuss what I needed in a prospective candidate, they wouldn’t talk to candidates until after the new year started.

  “Put your shoes and coat on,” Mom said the week before my birthday.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You’ve been working so hard and it’s the Christmas season. Let’s go out and do something fun.”

  “Fine.”

  I tossed my coat on and followed Mom outside. It was dark outside—about an hour after sunset—and I was very confused. Where could she possibly be taking me this late that made sense? While I thought, she buckled me snugly in her car before sitting in the driver’s seat. Just like that, we were off.

  She drove to the next town over. As soon as we got into town, there was immediate traffic. Not the usual kind from people going to or from work. It was the kind of snarl that could only be caused by a large event. I was still in the dark about what the event was, but I was now sure that it was an event.

  After sitting in traffic for entirely too long, Mom pulled the car into a parking lot. She had to pay a parking attendant because—of course—she did. People would monetize anything they could. At least it wasn’t something I had to pay for.

  She parked in the next available space and we both got out of the car. Mom took my hand. She led me under the lights and along a path marked out by cones. There were plenty of other families in front of us, all walking the same direction.

  At the end of the path was an area that opened up. There were a couple of ticket booths on either side of a central pathway leading into a sea of lights. I was beginning to understand what Mom had taken me to. It was a Christmas light display!

  She pulled out her phone. We waited in line for a couple minutes until an attendant scanned the tickets. I followed her inside. The first thing we came to was a long tunnel of lights. Above me were strings of lights hanging from an arched wire structure.

  “What do you think?” Mom asked.

  “Its pretty,” I said.

  I did enjoy the lights. They were magical. It took me back to when I was a child—well, the first time I was a child. I loved Christmas lights back then. As I got older, I appreciated them, but not in the same was as I had. Seeing the magical lights through the eyes of an innocent child was an experience that only time could steal.

  I felt a nostalgia towards the surrounding brilliance, but that could not be said for Mom. I could tell she was trying to connect with me as she always had. Though I could respect that, I did not feel the same connection with her as I had before resetting. And that hurt. I felt like a terrible son. At the same time, I couldn’t help how I felt.

  Things were different this time than they had been to a year ago. I’d said goodbye to my parents, and these versions felt like fakes, somehow. That was a feeling I simply could not shake. I would soldier on regardless, and I hoped I would warm up to them. In the back of my mind, I was afraid that I couldn’t do that. I would be resetting the world at least a few more times, so everything had an air of impermanence and falsity to it. I shook the feelings away to focus on the lights around me. The thoughts didn’t disappear. Rather, I felt them settle in the back of my mind.

  Mom led me around the event. After the tunnel of lights, I saw a sleigh that was animated by turning lights on and off in sequence. The Santa sitting in the sleigh looked like he was waving his hand at me. Next to the display was a place to write a letter to Santa asking for gifts.

  “You want to write a letter?” Mom asked.

  “Nah,” I said. “I don’t need anything. Plus, I need to focus on… that… rather than what Santa might give me.”

  Mom’s face fell. She shook her head.

  “You don’t have to shoulder all the responsibility.”

  “But I do. You know I do. There’s no one else to do it but me.”

  I sighed. What had once started out as a stressful and draining grind was now a fact of life. I was used to it. It no longer bothered me like it used to. It was my job—my life.

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  “It doesn’t have to be. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

  “Sorry to say, Mom, but I’ve got limited time to get this done. Even with the resets.”

  She hugged me. I figured it was an attempt to comfort me, but I didn’t feel that way. Instead, I mostly felt annoyance. I was used to the way things had become. This was my mistake and only I could fix it. I had my goal, and I would see it through—one way or another.

  We went from display to display. I marveled at the intricate shapes and colors of the lights. I stood in line to swing on the colorful swings. Other children ran around like maniacs while I swung. I moved on to shooting bubbles from a bubble cannon when my time on the swing was up. We wondered around for another hour before Mom decided it was too late and time to go home.

  As I sat in the car on the way home, I reflected on the experience. I’d had fun, but I also found that there was a hole in my heart. There was something that had been irrevocably broken inside, and that saddened me. I did what I could to push those thoughts away.

  My birthday came and went. Then it was the new year. I emailed the recruiters to get to know them better before deciding on the one to use. I had several options. Ultimately, it came down to whether I believed the largest firm’s reach or one of the smaller ones had a better strategy. I went with a medium-sized firm that specialized in recruiting the people I needed. They were more agile and willing to work with me than the large one had been, but they also had more reach then the smaller ones. It was a suitable compromise.

  After signing the contract and confirming my requirements, it was time to close on the land. Technically, it was three closings, rather than one. But from my perspective, everything was done at Al’s office at the same time.

  “Hey, Al,” I said when Dad and I were seated across from him.

  I could see that he had given me an involuntary look that lasted but a fraction of a second. It wasn’t anything horrible, but rather a slight dislike. I imagined it was because of the contract he had signed, but couldn’t be sure without asking him. And I wasn’t going to ask him. Maybe I could pay him better and he wouldn’t resent me?

  “This is my Dad, Milton,” I continued. “He’s come with me to do the signing on my behalf.”

  “It’s good to meet you,” Al said with a smile. “I’m Al, Eddy’s attorney.”

  He shook Dad’s hand before passing three stacks of papers our way.

  “I’ll need your ID, Milton, before you start signing.”

  Dad fished it out of his wallet and gave it to Al.

  “I’ll go through each of the documents to explain what they are and what they mean. The first stack is for the larger property at 1821 State Route 27 in Perryville. The company—Teller Farming—will be the owner of it as soon as the papers are signed…”

  Al droned on while explaining what each bit was for. There was stuff about an inspection, not suing the owners because they’d disclosed everything, and more.

  The signing took well over an hour to complete—doing everything multiple times will do that. I handed over a check for the full amount for the three properties to Al. He would handle giving the money from an escrow account to the sellers. Just like that, I was a homeowner for the first time in my life.

  With the land in my possession, I had a list of things I needed to accomplish before I could move in and start working the land. The first thing I needed to do was get the farmhouse up to snuff. At the moment, it was ancient. Everything inside it ran on hopes and dreams or elbow grease. I needed a place with modern amenities if I was to keep sane over the next decade and a half. Farming was hard enough. I wanted my cool summer slumbers!

  To that end, I hired a general contractor to tear the place down to the studs and rebuild it. The project would be expensive and take a while—half a million and half a year. It would be worth it, though.

  I drove out with Mom to look everything over and see where I could put the equipment. I was fairly sure the first year was going to be a loss. There was little chance everything would be ready in time to start as soon as the last frost passed. I might be up and running by the middle of the summer—which would be just enough time for some of the more quickly growing crops. I would lose out on the prolific crops I wanted to plant—this year, that was.

  When I discovered a suitable location, I hired a different contractor to handle the construction of it. It wouldn’t be anything too elaborate—a very large metal building to house the equipment and allow me to repair the farm equipment.

  It was around then that I found the time to sift through all the resumes. There were a lot of them. The economy was good, yes, but that translated to higher wages and job hopping instead of anything truly steady. After a few days of work, I had it narrowed down to a handful of candidates that I might want to talk to. I let the recruiter know so they could have the introductory conversation and reduce the numbers. A week later, it was down to three.

  The first option was a young man named Jack Lewes. He was working as a personal assistant for a CEO of a large company. While he enjoyed the job, he was looking for more money now that he had several years of experience doing the work. I liked the work experience and the drive, but I was hesitant that he would want to jump ship in a few years to greener pastures. I didn’t blame him for that, but I needed one person to rely on for a long time. Still, I felt it was worth talking to him.

  The second choice was a middle-aged woman named Gloria Jones. Like Jack, she had plenty of experience doing the work. She was coming off of a stint as a stay-at-home mother. Most importantly, she had some experience with the farming industry. I didn’t mind the family. In fact—as long as she got done with whatever she needed to do—I had no qualms about her working remotely if she needed. That was something I would need to find out, though.

  The final candidate was a young-woman named Daisy Johnson. She was nearing graduation, with the same degree I’d finished in my last life. Additionally, she’d completed a couple of internships doing similar work to what I needed. Of the candidates, she was the weakest. Not only could she not really start until the summer, but she had less experience. The lack of experience could be mitigated by drive, and the timing could be handled by her working remotely until she graduated. I would only know for sure by calling her.

  I scheduled the interviews through the recruiter. It was time to see who would be by my side until it was time to reset again.