Marieke is hosting a Midwinter Blogfest on her blog Marieke’s Musings check it out the participants’ entries (HERE).
Here’s the rules: “What does your MC do for Midwinter? Any special celebrations? Yule, Christmas? Celebrations for a midwinter solstice? A Festival of Light? A Wild Hunt? Perhaps something else completely? Christmas on the beach or winter in June? Maybe your MC has good memories of a winter’s day past when life was easier before the story you as Evil Writer wrote?”
So I’ve dusted of an old project about a Christmas miracle I wrote when I was younger. This scene is not of happier times for my MC but of the worst time for her before a miracle happens. I hope you enjoy it, and please keep in mind that I was really REALLY young when I wrote it. Cheers!
A fat snowflake hit the window and melted as it made a trail down the glass pane. Mom’s laborious breathing trembled in the background. Nana should have been here by now. I drew a heart with my finger on the fogged window. Then I etched the letters M-O-M in the middle of the heart and turned to look at Mom. She gave me a faint smile.
Everything about Mom was beautiful except her name, Lee, which was simple. The name fit her when she was younger because she was a real tomboy, always running with the boys, digging up worms, and fishing the pond out by Nana and Pop’s lake house.
“Shelby, you’re going to catch a death–,” Lee said around a craggy cough. “Come sit by me.” She patted the bed beside her.
I abandoned my vigil at the window seat and snuggled up to her on the bed. “Why hasn’t she gotten here yet?” I whispered.
Mom coughed again. “Probably a delay due to the weather, not to worry she’ll be here in time.”
“I hate living here, everything takes forever to happen.”
“Oh? Well, I love living here, cause everything seems to last longer.” The air caught in Mom’s throat, and she wheezed. “It’ll be dark soon. Why don’t you hit the lights, and we’ll give Nana a grand welcoming.”
“Okay. Did you want anything while I’m up?”
“Water would be nice.”
I walked into the loft landing and headed down the stairs. Headlights streaked across the foyer as I reached the bottom. I darted to the light switch that Dad had rigged the Christmas lights to and flipped it. The outdoors turned into a wonderland of white and red lights. I hurried to the great room, bent behind the Christmas tree, and stuck the plug into the outlet. The tree awoke and its lights brightened the entire room. My feet slipped across the floor as I rushed to the door and yanked it open just before Dad had a chance to insert the key.
“Hey, Dad,” I said and hurried past him to fling my arms around Nana.
“My, my, Shelby,” Nana said, pulling back to scan me. “Let me take a good look at you. Shelby Beaumont, I declare, you’re such a young lady. You look just like your Mama.”
“I was just with you five months ago, Nana. I couldn’t of changed that much.”
“I tell you, you have. Oh, and I haven’t forgotten your birthday gift. I can hardly believe you’re fourteen. I wish I were here for it. I would’ve sent the gift but it’s too valuable to send by mail . . . and I wouldn’t even trust the express service either. It’s been handed down generations, older than Jesus’ birth even.”
“I’ll just put your bags in the guest room,” Dad interrupted.
“Thank you, Gerard.” Her eyes followed him as he went up the stairs and then she turned to me. “You did a wonderful job on the Christmas decorations. It looks just like your mother did it herself.”
I gave her a tight smiled. “Thanks.” The thought of Mom not having the strength to decorate the house herself slammed against my heart.
“Mom’s been trying to stay up to see you,” I said, shaking away the thought. “I was just getting her a drink of water and I’ll meet you up there.”