"On Christmas Eve, many years ago, I lay quietly in my bed. I did not rustle the sheets. I breathed slowly and silently. I was listening for a sound - a sound a friend had told me I'd never hear – the ringing of Santa's sleigh…"
It was Christmas Eve, 2018 and twenty-five-year-old Sarah Quinn was curled up on the couch in the middle of her apartment. Christmas music was playing quietly from her Ipad on the nearby coffee table. Her fat lazy cat Hercules was sleepy at the other end of the couch. He would occasionally open one of his eyes and watch Sarah suspiciously, but she hadn't moved in several minutes. With a steaming mug of tea in one hand, she was reading The Polar Express to herself. (And to Hercules.)
It was a lame tradition she knew it, but The Polar Express was one of her favorite Christmas stories and she'd been reading it every year on Christmas Eve since…well since she was old enough to read. After all what was more in the spirit of Christmas than a story about a boy who never stopped believe in Santa? Sarah leaned back in her seat. She always read her favorite parts out loud because she was going to teach Hercules to appreciate something other than a full food bowl and the electric fountain that kept his drinking water fresh and clean.
"I knew that I could have any gift I could imagine. But the thing I wanted most for Christmas was not inside Santa's giant bag. What I want more than anything was one silver bell from Santa's sleigh."
Sarah was about halfway through the book now. Her tea was no longer steaming. In truth there wasn't much tea left. At present, Hercules was watching her intensely. His bottlebrush orange tail was swishing back and forth. Her offered a pitiful meow to let her know that he was hungry.
"All right, all right, but only because my cookies are almost done." Sarah left the book splayed open on the coffee table and made her way into the kitchen.
Tomorrow would be the first Christmas that she'd spend alone in her entire life, so she was doing everything she could to make her small apartment feel like a big Christmas gathering. The oven timer dinged almost as soon as she reached the kitchen door. She ignored the cookies for the time being and instead poured Hercules a scoop of dry cat food. The cat ran from the couch in the other room and offered up several grateful meows before chomping into his food.
With that taken care of, Sarah turned her attention to the Pillsbury sugar cookies that hadn't taken very long at all to bake. They were on the smaller side as far as cookies were concerned, but they were the kind that Pillsbury made for every season. For Halloween there were pictures of ghosts or spooky cats printed on them. For Valentine's Day, there were hearts. Of course, Pillsbury didn't disappoint when it came to Christmas. There were several options for the wintery holiday. Reindeer, Snowman and even little elf hats to tie in with the Will Ferrell movie of the same name, but for Sarah there was only one shaped cookie that would do the job; the Christmas Trees.
"Mmm, smell that bud?" She asked Hercules as she settled the cookie tray on the stove top to cool. Hercules ignored her, opting instead to continue eating his food. Sarah chose one cookie at random and bit into its molten center. She always liked cookies best when they were piping hot. While she was on break from her book, Sarah decided to send out a quick text to her parents. They were on vacation, their first one alone together in what she guessed was about twenty-five years. She was happy for them, but she missed them.
Another piping hot cookie was eaten and Sarah stretched. Wondering if she should go to bed without finishing her book. A disapproving meow was bellowed from Hercules, as if he could read her mind. He was right after all, tradition was tradition. She plated a few more cookies and swapped her tea for hot chocolate. She hummed along to the currently playing song, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas and resumed skimming the pages of her book.
"On Christmas morning my little sister Sarah and I opened our presents." Sarah read the second to last page of the book aloud. The ending was easily the best part.
"When it looked as if everything had been unwrapped, Sarah found a small box behind the tree that had my name on it. Inside was the silver bell! There was a note. 'Found this on the seat of my sleigh. Fix that hole in your pocket.' Signed 'Mr. C'. I shook the bell. It made the most beautiful sound my sister and I had ever heard. But my mother said, 'Oh, that's too bad.' 'yes,' said my father, 'it's broken.' When I'd shaken the bell, my parents had not heard the sound. At one time most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found one Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I've grown old, the bell still rings for me as it does for all who truly believe."
Sarah closed the book with a smile. The end was absolutely the best part. She collected her now empty plate and mug and put them in the sink. She'd wash dishes later, there was no dishwashing on Christmas Eve. Sarah yawned again, deciding it was finally time she turned in for the night. She made sure the oven was off and flicked off the lights throughout the apartment. When she made it to the Christmas tree, she opted to leave it on. But she did pause long enough to flick the silver bell ornament on the tree and listened to it jingle.
"Alright, Herc, bed time." With a gentle huff, Sarah scooped up Hercules so that he could cuddle in bed with her for the night. She probably would have gone to bed earlier that night, if she had known about everything that was to come.