Christmas Eve Tradition by J.A. Guynn - 1st Place winner of the Kayla Hicks Short Story 2024 Contest
Christmas Eve Tradition by J.A. Guynn - 1st Place winner of the Kayla Hicks Short Story 2024 Contest
Mama was alone after daddy died. That’s not to say she was lonely. When her friends asked about dating or boyfriends, she always gave the same answer, “Raising three kids keeps me busy enough.” I was five or six when I discovered her secret.
Christmas Eve, too excited to sleep, I crept out of bed just before midnight and pressed my nose against my window. Santa isn’t sneaking in unseen this year. Goosebumps covered my arms when I spotted someone leaning against the big pecan tree in our front yard.
My heart pounded in my chest when I realized it was a man. Looking closer, I noticed he wasn’t dressed in red. Instead, he wore a white shirt under a dark suit coat. His hat hid his face in a shadow.
Confused and scared, I watched, trying to decide if I should go tell mama about the stranger. Thoughts zoomed through my head. Maybe he’s sick or lost or needs help. I convinced myself mama needed to know.
Before turning from the window, movement caught my eye. Someone in a lacy, white dress hurried from our house and embraced the stranger. I pressed my nose to the glass again, to see who it was. They started dancing. Moonlight lit mama’s face as they moved around the yard, swaying and spinning to music I couldn’t hear.
My breath caught in my throat. I watched, trying to recognize the man leading mama around their grassy dancefloor. Despite my excitement and curiosity, I fell asleep slumped against the window.
My older brother and sister tromping downstairs at first light Christmas morning woke me. Mama waited for us, sitting in her chair next to the tree, smiling wide and looking well-rested.
Scraps of paper flew as we opened presents. Toys and games brought shouts of glee, new clothes were greeted with less enthusiasm. In my excitement, I forgot to ask her about the man she danced with. After breakfast, we went to visit friends and relatives for more presents and more food. I fell asleep on the ride home.
The next year, I found myself watching out the window again on Christmas Eve. Like before, the man waited under the tree; hat, white shirt, and dark suit. Mama danced with him in the same dress and I fell asleep on the floor.
Year after year, I watched them dance. Rain or snow, warm or cold, even when mama was under the weather, she always danced in our yard with the man after midnight on Christmas Eve. I never saw him on any other night and mama never mentioned him.
One time, when I was older and bolder, I asked her who he was.
She looked at me and grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tessa.”
I pressed further, insisting it was her in the fancy white dress.
“You’re just dreaming. The only white dress I own is my wedding gown and I haven’t worn it since I married your father.”
Convinced she was hiding something, next Christmas Eve I made it a point to figure out who he was. I never saw enough of his face to recognize him.
Time passed and we grew up. My brother and sister left for college but I stayed home, not wanting to leave mama alone. Even after I married, and moved out to start my own family, I lived within walking distance of my childhood home.
Mama was the picture of health until shortly after my second daughter was born. Doctors gave us the news no one wants to hear, terminal cancer. My siblings lived out of state and couldn’t easily uproot their families. They’d take care of the medical bills; I’d take care of mama.
Our house went on the market and my family moved in with mama. There was plenty of room and I wanted my girls to spend as much time with her as possible.
That Christmas Eve, I snuck into my oldest daughter’s room while she slept and peered out of my old bedroom window near midnight. Sure enough, the stranger stood under the pecan and mama came out to dance with him. His black suit and her white dress spun and swayed around the yard. I watched until a rooster crowed. The sound ended their performance. The stranger turned to walk down the street and mama hurried back inside.
The following spring, mama lost her fight. The decision to bury her in her wedding dress, next to daddy, was easy. Her will split everything equally between the three kids. My brother and sister signed over their claims to the house. The home I grew up in, filled with warm, happy memories, was mine now.
As the Christmas season grew near, I wondered if her dance partner would stop by like he always had. Mama’s obituary was in the local paper. It seemed like most of the town attended her funeral. He had to know she was gone.
After putting the kids to bed, I told my husband there was something I had to do for mama and took a blanket out to the porch swing. If the stranger did come, I had to let him know what happened.
The grandfather clock tolled, startling me. I looked toward the pecan tree and the stranger was there. Before I could stand, a cold wind caressed my cheek. Mama, dressed in her wedding gown, crossed the yard. They danced, mama moving gracefully as ever, until the sky brightened.
This time, instead of leaving the stranger, mama took a step toward the street before turning to look at the house. She smiled, pointed to my old bedroom window, and took the man’s hand. They walked away, fading as the sun rose. Wiping tears from my eyes, I hurried into the yard and looked at the second-floor window.
My oldest daughter was there, asleep, slumped against the glass.
(All rights to this story remain with the author)