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‘Tell me a story, grandpa.’

“Well, it was three nights before Christmas and the whole town was getting ready to celebrate. People had put up their trees, the snow had been shovelled off the driveway and made into snowmen. Hot cocoa was being made on the stove and the family gathered around to discuss presents and who should get what.”

Eyes widening, he said, ‘Then?’

“Then came the beautiful sack ordered from far, far away. The top was loosened and out tumbled the most delightful packages wrapped in red, green, purple and gold. Big packages, small ones, medium ones that rattled when you shook them.

And there was one tiny box, a blue one, that I picked up and held close to my ear. I shook it but there was no sound. It felt weightless. Empty, maybe?”

‘Was it? Empty?’

He smiled.

“It wasn’t. But I couldn’t open it that day, I had to wait for Christmas morning.

And that morning, I gently loosened the ribbon and lifted the lid and what did you think was inside?”


“A soft, blue heart made out of cloth. It was the one your grandma had made for me as a gift, for our first Christmas together.”

‘And you got it now?’

“This Christmas is the first one without her, sonny. That blue heart is all I have left of her.”

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  • Day 18 of Daily writing

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