It’s Wednesday, and each week on my blog I share some sort of creative writing on Wednesdays. I might not have time to participate in Friday Fictioneers today so I thought I would share something I wrote a few years ago. The original version of this story is here. But I didn’t change much, a word here or there. I believe I made it better. This is one of my favorite Christmas stories, I hope you like it too.
I am laying here and I look at my hands covered in wrinkles, the veins protruding; my wrists, so tiny. I used to be a rather large woman but these days I spend my days in a bed I feel like could swallow me up.
“I must be ill” I think but then I look again at my hands and decide maybe I am just old.
My eyes close often but I am not sure I am sleeping. My dreams intrude on my life and my life intrudes on my dreams. I am not always sure which is which. I see snow falling out my bedroom window and hear Christmas music playing.
I look over at my husband and laugh as he sings along while driving.
“Look at those” I point out to the children and we sing-song our rehearsed melody “Ooo pretty lights.” The town is lit up; each neighbor competing with the other for the biggest brightest display. We choose the winner when we pull back into our driveway. “Oooo these are the prettiest of all” we giggle.
I smell cookies and hear my daughter come into my room. She sits by me and kisses me on the cheek. Her skin feels so familiar and I look down at the baby in my arms. She’s wide awake even though it is the middle of the night. The room is lit by the Christmas tree and I gently rock her hoping she will go back to sleep. Her adoring eyes find mine and we smile at one and other.
“Mama, are you sleeping?” I hear her say.
I open my eyes. “No dear, just dreaming”.