“This box, too, Dad.” Dean tugged on the cardboard box to drag it closer to his Dad.
“Careful, Dean.” John reached down and grabbed the tattered box from his son. “Thanks for the help.” He smiled, and ruffled his four year old son’s hair.
Baby Sammy was sleeping in his bassinette, now placed just off to the side of the Christmas Tree. John kept his baby son close, at all times. He had failed his wife, he would not fail to keep Sammy safe.
John opened up the box, and found a bunch of Mary’s favorite Christmas decorations inside. Garish metallic garlands, multiple strings of lights, a few tree ornaments, and a Santa Claus that Dean had colored at preschool last year were in the box. Each and every single item in it reminded him of Mary. The pain of losing her was almost too sharp, too much to bear.
“This one, Dad!” Dean’s short fingers lifted up one of the ornaments. “We need this one! Mommy bought it special for Sammy, before he was born.” Dean squeaked. “She stole it.”
“Stole it?” John questioned. That was most unlike Mary.
“Mommy said it was a steal.”
“Oh.” John chuckled. “It means that Mommy didn’t take too much out of her piggy bank to buy it.” He opened up the ornament box, and withdrew a shiny, red glass ornament, emblazoned with the words “Baby’s First Christmas.”
Secret Santa Drabble!
“This box, too, Dad.” Dean tugged on the cardboard box to drag it closer to his Dad.
“Careful, Dean.” John reached down and grabbed the tattered box from his son. “Thanks for the help.” He smiled, and ruffled his four year old son’s hair.
Baby Sammy was sleeping in his bassinette, now placed just off to the side of the Christmas Tree. John kept his baby son close, at all times. He had failed his wife, he would not fail to keep Sammy safe.
John opened up the box, and found a bunch of Mary’s favorite Christmas decorations inside. Garish metallic garlands, multiple strings of lights, a few tree ornaments, and a Santa Claus that Dean had colored at preschool last year were in the box. Each and every single item in it reminded him of Mary. The pain of losing her was almost too sharp, too much to bear.
“This one, Dad!” Dean’s short fingers lifted up one of the ornaments. “We need this one! Mommy bought it special for Sammy, before he was born.” Dean squeaked. “She stole it.”
“Stole it?” John questioned. That was most unlike Mary.
“Mommy said it was a steal.”
“Oh.” John chuckled. “It means that Mommy didn’t take too much out of her piggy bank to buy it.” He opened up the ornament box, and withdrew a shiny, red glass ornament, emblazoned with the words “Baby’s First Christmas.”
John didn’t bother to choke back his tears.