This is a more sombre one. I felt sad writing it. :'( Thankfully, it's also much shorter.
Here we go!
Popo sat by the fire. It was Christmas Eve.
Around him, everyone chatted lightly with each other. Nana leaned against him, starting silently in the flames.
"Remember Christmas?" Nana said quietly.
To anyone else, it would have been a confusing, cryptic comment - wasn't Christmas all around them at that very moment? But Popo knew what she meant. "Yeah," he said.
Candles in the window,
shadows painting the ceiling.
"I remember," Nana continued. "The tree had real little candles on it. And we ate fudge."
Popo remembered it. All too well. The warmth of the mountain cabin where he and Nana had lived. The hushed tales of Santa Claus and the sweet scent of cocoa and fudge. Nana had been little then, barely more than a baby. But somehow she remembered.
Gazing at the fire glow...
feeling that gingerbread feeling.
"D'you miss them?" Nana asked, not meeting Popo's eyes.
"Yeah," Popo agreed. "Every day and every night. You were... four or five, weren't you? And we all sat by the fire... you on mom's lap, and me between her and dad. And we sang carols, and made snow-angels, and they told us about the wonderful present they had for us on Christmas Day."
Precious moments.
Special people.
Nana looked up, and her eyes were wet. "We'll never see them again."
"Sure we will!" Popo said. "And then think about how happy they'll be! They'll be so proud of us."
Happy faces
I can see...
Nana was serious. "Pop, you can stop lying to me. I know we're not their real children. We only have their memories. We... we don't have a mommy or a daddy." The tears resurfaced, and she buried her face in Popo's shirt.
Somewhere in my memory.
Christmas joys all around me.
"But we have each other," Popo said, hugging his little sister tight, trying to hold back his own tears. "As long as we have each other, we can beat anything. And we have all the people here. We have friends, and family."
"But..." Nana sobbed. "But it's not like that." She hugged her brother tighter.
"No," said Popo sadly. "It's not like that." he let his chin sink onto the top of her head, and patted her back as he cried himself.
Living in my memory...
All of the music.
All of the magic.
All of the family home here with me.
Nana sniffed, wiping her tears. "Merry Christmas, Popo," she whispered.
"Merry Christmas, Nan."
In my memory...
:'(
Well, review!