Tis’ The Season

She loved Christmas, in all its glory.

Her favorite memory was of her as a child, sitting by the fire, sipping hot cocoa, listening to joyful hymns. Her sister always popped a roasted marshmallow in her cup and insisted that she try it. They would run out and dance in the sleet. Imprint the ground with snow angels and fight off the neighboring boys with snowballs.

Then came the presents on Christmas day. Wrapped in festive paper, and lots of love.

Oh! what a wonderful time it was. The air, the decor, the delicious little treats; nothing but happy memories.

She looked out the window and felt a single tear roll down her cheek. It was a cold evening, just like any other December. But something was different.

She was in bed, alone. Her sister, gone. Her home, now the shady tree quarantine center.

Her days were now full of whispers, painful prodding, and heavy breathing. She longed very much to go outside and feel the snow. Taste the warm cocoa. Engage in childhood games.

’Tis the season, after all.

The icy wind howls at night, and she closes her eyes, dreaming of little cookies and her most treasured Christmas present – a brown teddy bear.

  • Funny bones. But mostly cranky. Permanent bitch face. Mother.

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