“Make a wish, Darling.” Mama says, smoothing my long golden hair.
It’s December twenty-fourth, and we’ve just seen the first snowflake of winter. Every year during the first snowfall we get all bundled up and go outside to make a wish. I can’t remember the first time we did this. Perhaps it started before I was even born. Either way, it’s our thing. Last year she had to get me out of bed so we could see the first flakes. It’s one of the reasons I like winter so much. I never remember what I wish for or if it comes true, but that’s not really the point.
This year, we weren’t sure it would happen before Christmas. Every day we would look at the weather forecast and see sunny skies. Still, we watched out the window most of the day, just in case.
Now it’s finally here but we can’t go outside to greet it. Instead, I’m stuck in this chair by the fire, watching the toy train chug around the Christmas tree, and my mother is stuck inside with me. I get the idea she doesn’t want to let me out of her sight.
If I weren’t so sick we could go outside. Make little round men out of snow and carve indents in the shape of angels. If I weren’t sick, we could do a great many things that just aren’t possible anymore.
I know what’s going to happen to me. She seems to think that if she doesn’t mention it I won’t realize the truth. But she doesn’t see what I see. She smiles softly and pretends to be happy, but I see the sadness in her eyes. I see her smile drop when she turns away from me. Daddy is the same way, but he’s not home as much. He’s working more lately so we can pay for the doctors. I know because I hear them talking about it sometimes. They don’t know I can hear them. I pretend, for their sake, that I don’t understand. But I know that I’m going to die. And I know it will be soon.
So I do make a wish. I wish for the pain to go away. For my parents to be truly happy again. For the tumor in my brain to disappear.
I wonder if this one will come true.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
