A Christmas Centus
“The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below…”
White snow. Bright snow. At the edge of the field, Mira saw a deer nibbling a patch of grass that had been sheltered from the snow storm by the thick trees. To her left, she could see Christmas lights twinkling in town. It was her first Christmas alone since he had died. Still, she had decorated a tree, and had even put the old electric candles in the front windows.
Mira turned. There stood her children, their faces ruddy from the cold.
“Merry Christmas!” they cried.