Applesauce Footprints, part 4

“Merry Christmas!” Annie shouted and started for home. Her feet made joyful crunches in the snow and left new indentions in the powdery whiteness that had began to fall. The new snow decorated the cracked sidewalks of Main Street.

“Hey, everybody! Look what I’ve got!” Annie shouted as trudged backwards up the front porch steps of the Tuckers’ home. A trail of pine needles had followed her from town, and now entered the living room with her.

Later that day, snow drifted into winter sculptures over sleeping rose bushes. Blue shadows beneath them darkened to a deeper hue. The Christmas tree stared out the Tuckers’ front window. It shimmered under a burden of construction paper chains and strings of popcorn. It bowed its head reverently from the weight of cardboard star atop it; a star that had been carefully cut from the side of a cereal box, then covered with shiny foil.

Annie stood with her three older sisters, Nan, Joan, and Vickie. In awed silence they admired their creation, and munched the candy Annie shared with them, purchased with the last precious quarter. The essence of applesauce cake decorated the house.

From out of the darkness snowflakes peered in as their lace patterns clung in cotton candy puffs to the cold windows. The round-bellied stove in the dining room blushed from the fire that crackled within it. The warmth completed the room’s perfection, but something was missing.

Bursting into the room on chubby legs, little Maggie Tucker grinned up at the magnificent tree. Her face glowed with expectation.

“Pretty! Oh, so pretty!” she exclaimed, and leaned far back to see the tree. “I’m going to bed now so Santa Clause can come.”

The hot chocolate the Tucker girls had been drinking cooled as they looked at each other. Joy left the room as quickly as it had come.

The chill of the setting sun congealed snow that had tried to melt. It formed knife blade spears along the eves of the roof.

There will not be a Santa for Maggie this year, each girl thought in her own way. Their thoughts chased around the room, looking for places to hide.

And last year there might have been no Maggie.

Running from the room, Maggie darted up the stairs towards the bed she and Annie shared.

“Goodnight everyone! Merry Christmas!” her childish lisp called to them from the landing.

Silent snow was falling denser now. The wind flung it around the corners of the house, helping it look for an entrance. It was the only sound, without or within. Tomorrow morning there would be no Christmas for Maggie.

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