A Gift

For Mother Combs' Christmas Miracle Challenge. You can find it here:

The snow laced the rooftops of the lethargic village outside. Eleanor had used to love the snow. I’s freshness had excited her. She liked the newness - It had felt like a gift. But these days she felt little joy in anything much. Her life had become one of quiet solitude since Brian had passed away. Christmas had become cruel. Her heart filled with memories and the pang of what once was. Gone. They had never had any children. Not for the lack of trying. It had just never happened the way that they had planned. So, there was no family to speak of and no visitors to calm the dull ache of loneliness. There had been friends, but it had been three years and they had dwindled into the side-lines, especially at this time of year. Too busy with their own families and Christmas preparations to give her much thought. And she wasn't one to ask.

Christmas eve had always been their favourite day of the year. In the morning they would visit her parents –buried side by side. The same way that she would be too one day, alongside Brian. Afterwards, they would walk through the village, hand in hand, admiring the colourful lights and the elaborate shop window décor. They would drink tea in, 'The Parlour Room' and talk like they were teenagers again. And in the evening, they would fit into each other on the sofa and watch old movies. “The Slipper and the Rose’ had always been her favourite. She could no longer bring herself to watch it. The memory of his mock indignation, “Again?” was more than she could bear. They had watched it every year for thirty years.

It was Christmas eve again. And, again she would visit the graves of her loved ones. A lily for each.

She bundled herself into her coat, wrapped her scarf around her neck and set out into the snow.

Her feet crunched on the icy pavement. This time she did not stop to admire the adorned shop windows. The colours had faded. Nor did she feel the snow lightly flitting on to her nose. She arrived at the cemetery with a heavy heart as the weight of loss continued to take root. As tradition had become, she placed a lily gently on each of her parent’s head stones, "Merry Christmas," she whispered, her breath visible in the air.

She made her way slovly to Brian. As she approached, wielding a single lily she could see a small shivering form lying next to the grave.

Eleanor proceeded carefully, not wanting to startle the animal. "Hello little one" she said quietly. The dog, barely moved, too weak to respond but for a tiny shift of its tail, it just lay on the ground, motionless. She knelt down stroking its unkempt fur. It responded to the kindness, nuzzling its head towards the warmth. Salvation,

Eleanor looked at the frail dog, its eyes were hollow and desperate. Broken. She couldn't just leave it there, alone and suffering. She made the decision quickly, carefully wrapping the dog in her scarf and cradling it in her arms.

“Let’s get you warm,” she murmured, as much to the dog as to herself.

With the dog still in her arms, she placed the lily on her late husband’s headstone, “Thank you” she whispered, her heart comforted by the heart of the dog wrapped into her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, as they sat together on the sofa, the dog, now named, 'Gift' rested his head tentatively on Eleanor’s lap. For the first time since Brian’s passing, Eleanor felt alive. She had a purpose once again. She had been given a gift.

And Gift had finally found a home to call his own.

Author's Note

As Christmas comes around I truly hope that you find the gift in your life. But please remember that dogs are for life, not just for Christmas.