This morning, for the first time in years, I didn't put up my Christmas tree lights.
There were three days left until Christmas Eve, and my house was silent, like it was screaming. Normally at this time of year, the grandchildren would be running around the living room, knocking over Christmas decorations and throwing candy, but this year was different. My daughter and her family had gone to the mountains. “Dad, the kids want to see real winter,” she told me over the phone a few days ago, like it was completely normal. I was left here, all alone.
That morning, for the first time in years, I didn’t put up the lights on the Christmas tree. It stood in the corner of the living room, sad, as if it knew no one would enjoy it. I looked at the kitchen table, where the gingerbread cookies I had baked myself were lying. Their smell filled the house, but instead of joy, it only brought me memories. My grandchildren loved decorating them with colored icing. This year, the plates would remain empty.
I decided to go for a walk, to escape the thoughts that were tormenting me for a while. The snow crunched under my boots, and the frosty air stung my face. I passed the church, where preparations for the Midnight Mass were underway. It was bustling inside, people were bringing in Christmas trees, decorations. I stopped for a moment, watching others have something to strive for.
On my way home, I heard children laughing. I looked toward the yard, where a few toddlers were playing. Their joy was contagious, but it reminded me of what I had lost.
I stopped when I noticed an older woman approaching one of the children. It was a neighbor, Mrs. Maria. Always warm, always smiling, even though she had been a widow herself for a long time.
„Good morning, Mr. Marek! What a surprise to see you out for a walk– she called.
– „Good morning, Mrs. Maria. I see your grandchildren are at your?”
– „Yes, they came for the holidays. And Mr.? Will you have guests this year too?”
I shook my head and smiled sadly. Maria looked at me with understanding.
– “Please come and visit us. Your grandchildren always love to hear your stories. And I baked the cheesecake you always praised.”
I thanked them, but declined. I felt that I did not fit in with their joy. I returned home and sat in an armchair by the window. The snow was falling harder and harder, the world looked like a postcard. But inside me there was only emptiness.
In the evening the phone rang. It was Julia.
– „Hi, Dad. How are you holding up?”
– „Alright, honey. And how are you up there in the mountains?”
– „The kids are thrilled. We're building a snowman. But… you know, we thought we must have done wrong to leave you alone.”
I didn't know what to say. I felt my throat tighten.
– „Nothing happened, Julka. The most important thing is that you're happy.”
– „Maybe next year we'll spend the holidays together. Just like before.”
I put down the phone and looked at the Christmas tree. Suddenly, I turned on the lights. Maybe this year Christmas Eve will be lonely, but the hope that next year we'll sit together at the same table again brightened my sadness. Sometimes a small gesture is enough to feel that not all is lost.
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