The snow started to fall on a Christmas Eve. The woman glared out of her window, not a soul could be seen. An unusual scene, she thought to herself. Then she pulled a photo album off the shelf. Family members, cousins, aunts, and uncles, from near and far. Some teachers, some nurses, some veterans, and some tenders of bars. Some drivers of trucks and some cars. Then the children exclaimed, “No grandma, not that story again!” She laughed at how they’d foiled her plans, to tell them more stories of her beloved family and friends. “Well what do you want to hear,” she said laughing. They smiled ear to ear. “Can we go play outside? We’ll come back when we see the street lights.” She shooed them and yelled “watch each other now. You lose a shoe, none of you coming back ‘til it’s found. Play nice and mind the roads. No running in and out, once this door is closed”—"We know, we know,” they said, as they ran off to play. She watched in a daze, thinking I remember those days.
Then, she heard little footsteps behind her and felt a little arm wrap around her knee. “Hey little one, do you want to hear a story?” “Sure grandma,” the little voice said. She took the little child in the kitchen for a little gingerbread. “That’s my girl,” she smiled, and sat by the window with cookie, crumbs, and child. Hmm… which story do you want to hear, take your pick. How about the one where nobody gets sick? Oh, yes child. I remember which one that is. “Oh wait,” the little voice said, “what about the first Christmas? With the angels and the old men? The animals and the poor baby born in the pig pen.” “No baby, it was a manger.” “Oh that’s right, a manger! Grandma, tell me that one!”
“One story about a baby born in a pig pen.” “No grandma,” the little voice rang. “I know, I was making sure you were listenin’.” And she went on and on, about angels with messages. There was a road trip and men with weird sayings and presents. As she ended the story, the street lights came one and the kids came back in. “And that was the first Christmas” she ended. Their cold ears perked “Oh no grandma, that’s my favorite! You gotta tell it again.” “Oh no, I don’t” she said with a grin. “Grandmaaaa,” they all pled. She caved in and said, “Fine, but promise me you’ll tell this one when I’m gone.” “Okay grandma” they all sang in one song.
"Storytime" by KDGLS