Flash Fiction |
Christmas Thoughts The tree was up and decorated, decorations all over the house. The wreath on the door, and each colored light and fake icicle ready to light up all around outside the house, and the walkways. We had every ornament we owned out and in its new place. We were determined to make Christmas work in our new home. I’d gotten all our normal Christmas cookies and such, baked and either wrapped as presents, or hidden so we’d have at least some left to enjoy on Christmas day. My Christmas roast was ordered and I had a list of other things, traditional things, in my purse so I could go and buy them fresh, three days before Christmas, as was my habit. The stockings were ready to go, Christmas eve as was our tradition. The kids hung them up themselves as we sat in front of our wonderful shiny lit up tree, with lots of open space under it, for Santa to fill. I sat in the living room. I tried and tried but somehow, I still couldn’t do it, I just couldn’t make it work. I looked out the window and wanted to cry. There in front of our house, as opposed to the evergreens and snow in our old house in Maine, was a palm tree. The sun was shining and it was eighty-six out. I don’t know how to do it, I don’t know how they do it! How do people Christmas, in Florida??? |