Looking Through Windows

Greta

The snow fell heavily towards the ground, building a new home there. The gloom was too strong to ward off, and Greta gave in to it, as she had so many times before. Somewhere below all that white, he rested, waiting for her to join him. One day, she would.

But today there was pudding to eat, and cheerful music to listen to filtering out from the common room. The other residents were already seated to dinner, but she wanted to stay here a little longer. She could see the road from her window, and she was waiting for someone.

While she waited, she let her gaze rest on the candle flickering in the light draft from the window, her mind drifting back in time.

The lights on the tree were lit, Mother instructing her to not let the live flames out of her sight while she prepared dinner. The room smelled of pine and Greta sat cross-legged at the foot of the large tree that Father had brought home from the woods on his sled. He was out feeding the horses now, giving them an extra bundle of hay for a job well done, no doubt. At the top of the tree sat an angel that Father had carved, and Greta gazed up at it. She could smell the feast Mother was preparing in the kitchen, and any minute now, the aunts and uncles and cousins would be arriving. They would dance around the tree, taking care not to make the candles fall, and stuff themselves with food. She heard her stomach rumbling and giggled. Not too long now.

“Greta? Everyone is sitting down to dinner now,” a nurse popped her head through the door and tore away the blanket of warm holiday memories from around Greta. Greta nodded and reached for her walker, positioning it so that she could stand. But before she did, she bent forward and blew out the candle. Never leave a live flame unguarded, as Mother would say.