I sigh as I check the lights for the umpteenth time. Donna’s humming carols while making Christmas cookies. Our five-year-old, Bonnie, drinks her fourth glass of chocolate milk. She’s so proud she can make it herself, neither of us can tell her no. “You’re going to pee chocolate milk,” her mother tells her.
A devilish grin crosses Bonnie’s face and she bolts upstairs. “Awww! It’s not choc’late milk, Mommy! You’re a wiar!” Donna giggles at our imp’s disappointed outrage that she’s not, in fact, a fountain for chocolaty deliciousness.
The damned lights click on and two of the tiny bulbs highlight an old golden ornament. “This is a magic looking ball, Stevie. Whenever the light shines just right, you’ll be able to see me no matter where we are,” my mother’s half-remembered voice tells me.
My lips tug downward at the thought of her gone, these past twenty-five Christmases. My fingers reach out and caress the sunny sheen. It clouds, reflection changing to a tiny me being lifted and twirled by a smiling red-head.
The image disappears and tears fall. “Bonnie, come here.” My little moppet snuggles close to me, confused. I smile, pointing. “This is a magic looking ball…”
Word Count: 200
For Sunday Photo Fiction. By the way, the part with the chocolate milk? Yeah, that happened. Just switch the genders on the child. It was just so cute I couldn’t resist putting it in 🙂
Hope you enjoy. Head on over to Sunday Photo Fiction and read some great writers’ takes on the photo above! If it strikes a chord within, feel free to join the fun! Happy Holidays and New Year to everyone!
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