Red Ribbon Bows: A Christmas Short Story

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People passed by the blue house on the corner of Leland Road every day and thought little of it or its inhabitants. An outside eye who could see only the neat flowerbed, the clean blue paint, and the cute curtains that hung in the windows would think the house small, comfortable and well kept. They might expect it to be a home shared by an elderly couple, downsized from the one where they'd raised their two children together. They wouldn't be surprised by grandchildren or great-grandchildren running in the yard or pressing their sticky faces against the front windows. That outside eye would only be right about a few things.

In the living room there was a couch, old and well worn, but clearly appreciated at one point in its life. The indentations in the cushions were permanently worn into the ancient piece of furniture, not left by a recent occupant. The curtains were drawn across the fogged windows, keeping sunlight from reaching the furniture to fade it. In front of the window, obscuring any stray light that might find its way around the curtains, waited a Christmas tree with tired, sagging branches. The owner of this house, old and tired like her tree, hadn't been able to put the tree away at the end of the holidays last year, so here it stayed, gathering dust. Perhaps if the dust grew heavy enough, it would start to resemble snow, the only decoration to grace its branches this year.

Rachelle Woods, the lone inhabitant of this house, stood in the kitchen, making herself a cup of cocoa. Through the fog on the window over the counter, she could see light rain falling. The warmth of the mug in her hands offered a slight comfort from the damp chill in the air. Rachelle liked the smell of cocoa because it reminded her of Christmas, which made the house feel less empty. Sometimes she kept peppermints in the candy dish on her bedside table, too. She didn't feel festive this Christmas, but every bit counted.

Rachelle picked up her cane, then her cocoa in her other hand, before beginning the careful journey back to her room without sloshing her drink. Most of the doors in the hallway were shut. The only exceptions were her bedroom, the bathroom, and the double glass doors that led into the living room. She didn't like to leave other doors open because they reminded her of how much unneeded space the house had. It had felt too big and too cold ever since her wife, Leanne, passed away two years ago.

When Rachelle and Leanne lived together, they were the old couple an outside eye would have expected. Their children didn't come around much, not even for the holidays, but to them, the company of the other was enough. Now, Rachelle had no one for company. Some of the ladies from church suggested she adopt a cat, which she had considered.

Rachelle left the house on Sunday mornings for church and once every two weeks for groceries. After her trip, she came home to put them away in the fridge herself. She didn't have to worry about anyone's tastes but hers, or about her children stealing things she bought for herself. It had been nice at first, after the children moved out and Leanne was polite enough not to eat all of Rachelle's mint M&Ms in one sitting. Unlike the children, Leanne never took candy from the counter. She leaned over Rachelle's shoulder and stole a piece from her hand, leaving a playful kiss on her cheek in return before slipping out of the room. Oh, Rachelle missed that.

Rachelle entered her bedroom, where the space heater in the corner struggled to warm the room by even a degree. Her bed was unmade because her back couldn't handle standing up for long enough to straighten the blankets. She set her cocoa down on the table next to the armchair in the corner, then sank down in the chair. She blew gently across the surface of the drink to cool it before she took a sip. It was still too hot to drink, so she set it back down and picked up a book instead. The book held fairy tales, which she liked to escape into on cold days.

She sipped her cocoa while she read. Rain dripped gently down the windows, and the hum of the heater was the only thing that kept the house from being completely silent.

Once she finished her cocoa and set the empty mug back on the side table to wait for her next trip into the kitchen, she unwrapped a peppermint and put it into her mouth. The mint mixed with lingering chocolate reminded her of mint M&Ms, her old favorite candy that peppermints replaced.

She didn't buy mint M&Ms anymore. She hadn't since the first Christmas she spent alone, when she ate the whole bag herself and found her heart aching for the feeling of Leanne's hand on her shoulder the entire time. It felt wrong to be so uninterrupted.

The house felt bigger in December with no one to interrupt her. She missed kids running around her feet, guests and family members wandering through the kitchen and getting in her elbow room while she tried to cook, decorations stuffed in corners that filled up the empty space. She couldn't lift the boxes of ornaments down from the closet this year. She had no one to help her, either.

Her grandchildren were adults now, so her two sons spent their Christmases with them. She got a phone call, a card, maybe. Nothing hung on the fridge but old photos that her grandchildren didn't resemble anymore.

The doorbell rang, making Rachelle realize that she'd been staring at the words on the page without reading them while the peppermint melted on her tongue. She hadn't ordered anything in the mail, so she couldn't imagine who would be at her door, in the rain nonetheless.

She marked her place in her book and set it on the side table. She picked up her cane from where it leaned against the chair, then stood up carefully. While she made her way to the door, the doorbell rang again.

"I'm coming!" she called out. The bell rang a third time. Whoever was out there seemed to be in a hurry. Despite their impatience, Rachelle paused for a moment to look at her bare Christmas tree and hope that the guest didn't want to come inside.

She peered through the window in the front door before she opened it, but saw no one. She sighed quietly, hoping that she hadn't been pranked again. Some of the neighborhood children found it amusing to ring the bell and run away. Their behavior frustrated Rachelle, who hardly had the energy to answer the door. She didn't understand why children lost all respect for her once they outgrew their toddler years. She and Leanne had been beloved babysitters to several children, and it broke her heart to see them act this way.

She opened the door. On the porch wrapped in a purple scarf and matching hat stood a little girl. She appeared to be around age eight, the age most kids started to ignore Rachelle when she waved. She carried a plate covered in tin foil and topped with a bright red bow tied from velvet ribbon. A basket in her other hand held several other plates, each with a different color bow on top.

"What's your name?" the girl asked.

"Rachelle Woods."

"Merry Christmas Miss Woods!!" she greeted, grinning and holding the plate out to Rachelle.

Rachelle leaned on her cane and took the plate in one hand.

"Thank you," she replied. "Merry Christmas!"

"My Mama is having a party," the girl told her, "It's tomorrow at five. She said to invite you." She pulled a folded card from the basket and presented it to Rachelle.

Rachelle set the card on top of the plate and opened it. Before she read it, she glanced down at the girl's beaming face, still standing on the porch. The card listed the address, date, and time for the party, and requested that she bring an appetizer or dessert to share. She didn't know if the girl saw how her face lit up when she read it, or if she could sense the way her heart swelled at the invitation. The feeling was something akin to magic.

"There are cookies on the plate," the girl added, bouncing on her toes. "They're not very pretty," she noted. "My Mama wouldn't let me put frosting on them, but she said you'd like them anyway. Do you?"

Rachelle pulled the foil back. The cookies were still warm, steam lightly fogging the inside of the tin foil. They were chocolate chip, lumpy and irregular in the way that homemade chocolate chip cookies always were. The sweet smell made her mouth water.

"Would you like one?" Rachelle asked, holding the plate back out to the little girl. She wrestled with her manners for a minute, folding both hands around the handle of the basket, looking down at the other plates of cookies, then back up at the one Rachelle held.

"Yeah," she said, taking one off the top. "Thank you for sharing."

"You're welcome," Rachelle replied. "I'll enjoy them." She couldn't try one yet, since both of her hands were occupied holding her cane and the plate, but their smell lifted her spirits.

"What's your name?" she asked the girl.

"Katie," the girl replied, finishing her cookie and wiping her hands on her leggings. "I live over there." She turned around and pointed in the direction of a small, blue house. It had been vacant for a while, Rachelle remembered, so Katie and her family must have moved in recently. Katie seemed to be polite, and Rachelle hoped the trait persisted. She missed having children around.

"Well, Katie, don't let the rest of the cookies get cold before you deliver them." She smiled. "Tell your mother I'll be there, and thank you very much for the invitation."

Katie bounced away down the sidewalk. Rachelle stepped back inside and closed the door. Although the air temperature hadn't changed, the house felt warmer when she set the cookies down on the coffee table. She opened the curtains behind the tree to let in some light and dusted off the tree branches with her hand. The branches still drooped, empty, but nothing could be done about that.

As she turned around, she caught sight of the red bow on top of the plate of cookies. She looked back and forth between it and the tree before deciding that there was, in fact, something she could do. She removed the bow from the plate and nestled it in the top branches of the tree. She took a few steps backwards to consider the tree in its entirety. It wasn't perfect, but it was brighter and happier. The bow seemed to breathe a little more life into the branches of the tree.

Rachelle sat down on the couch and took a cookie from the plate. The first bite was perfect, soft and sweet. It filled her with joy and reminded her how good people could be.

She spent the rest of the day in the living room with her book of fairy tales, feeling joyful. She'd finished the plate of cookies before she went to bed. The next morning she had breakfast in the living room, too, and then searched in her closet for something else to decorate the tree. She found nothing else, but the bow satisfied her enough.

After lunch, she worked on making an appetizer to take to the party. She didn't have much food in the refrigerator, and she didn't have enough energy for a trip to the store, so she settled on making a plate of apple slices with caramel dip. At least Katie might like them, Rachelle thought as she sat at the table and chopped them. Feeling festive and inspired, she arranged the apples into the shape of a Christmas tree and served the dip into a flower-shaped glass bowl. She felt a small glow of pride in her work. She covered the plate with foil and put it in the refrigerator while she got ready.

That evening, she picked out a bright red sweater to wear to the party. The color made her feel warmer, and when she looked in the mirror, she didn't look as tired. She added gloves, a white scarf, and a hat to her outfit to protect her from the cold.

The walk to Katie's house would be no small feat. The distance was daunting, especially in the dark. She was on her way to the kitchen to get the apple slices when the doorbell rang.

She couldn't imagine who it would be, but she didn't mind walking through the living room again to answer the door. Katie stood on the porch, wearing a puffy blue coat over her party dress.

"My Mama said you might need help carrying something," she said, bouncing like usual.

"You can carry my dessert if you don't eat any," Rachelle replied. "Come in. It's in the fridge."

Katie kept darting ahead while Rachelle showed her the way to the kitchen. She flinched when Katie flung the fridge door open, but the gentleness with which she picked up the tray of apples proved that her energy came from excitement, not irritation. Katie admired the plate for a moment.

"It's so pretty," she told Rachelle. Holding the plate, she skipped back towards the front door with Rachelle following behind.

"Miss Woods?" Katie shouted from the living room.

"What's wrong?" Rachelle asked. She entered the room to find Katie staring at the bow on the Christmas tree.

"How come there aren't any decorations on your tree?"

Rachelle shook her head, not surprised by the question. "I couldn't get the box out this year. It's too much for my back."

Katie's eyes widened in shock. "You can't just have a tree with nothing on it!" She set the plate of apples down on the coffee table.

"It's alright," Rachelle assured her. "We have a party to go to."

"No, it isn't! Your tree looks too sad. I'll get out the box if you tell me where it is!"

"Well, the box is in the dining room closet."

The dining room door stayed shut most of the time. Rachelle only entered it when it was absolutely necessary. She ate at the kitchen table or in the chair in her room. She didn't need a table to seat eight, but there was no reason to get rid of it, either, so it stayed shut away in the dining room.
Katie flounced in and threw open the closet door. Rachelle watched her from the doorway as she balanced on her tiptoes and pulled the box from the shelf. She wobbled, and Rachelle feared for a moment she would drop it, but Katie pulled the box down safely and held it against her chest.

"I'll help you decorate before we go," she said as she strolled back into the living room. She put the box on the coffee table and opened the lid.

It had been over a year since Rachelle had seen the contents of this box. Strings of beads and lights spilled out of the top. Katie gathered the lights in her arms and carried them towards the tree, revealing colorful balls, photo ornaments, and crafts Rachelle's children had made out of popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners twenty-five years ago.

Katie finished stringing the lights on the tree before Rachelle finished taking in the ornament box. The lights weren't hung as neatly as Rachelle would have done herself, but Katie finished at a speed that Rachelle could not have accomplished. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled under the tree, found the electrical outlet, and plugged in the lights. The room lit up with a multicolored glow that made Rachelle shiver with excitement.

"Can I put some ornaments on, too, Miss Woods?" Katie asked, already digging through the box to look for them. She dropped a glass ball onto the coffee table, but made no effort to stop it when it rolled away.

"Handle them gently," Rachelle reminded her. She sat down on the couch. She glanced down at the glass ball, balanced on the corner of the coffee table next to Katie's elbow. "Actually, I'll pass them to you."

A steady stream of plastic candy canes, photo frames, miniature snowmen, colorful balls and glitter snowflakes made their way onto the tree, hung by Katie's enthusiastic but careful hands. She was clearly proud of her work. The tree was beautiful, but chaotic in the way that trees decorated by children always were. Every branch had some delicate ornament hung on it.

"Is this your wife?" Katie asked, taking the last ornament out of the box. She held up a photo frame for Rachelle to see. Inside was a picture from Rachelle and Leanne's wedding. Leanne leaned her head on Rachelle's shoulder, and both women grinned from ear to ear.

"Yes," Rachelle answered, trying to keep the sadness rising in her chest from showing on her face.

"What's her name?"

"Her name was Leanne."

"I'm sorry," Katie said, her face falling. "Do you want me to put it on the tree?"

Rachelle considered it for a minute, tracing her gaze over the heart shaped swirl of the frame. Until now, she had almost forgotten about this ornament, and the surprise made the sting more painful. She wasn't sure, at first, whether she wanted to hang the photo or not.

Rachelle looked at the photo again. She tried to remember the joy contained in that moment alongside her sadness. The concern on Katie's face solidified her decision. She couldn't leave the ornament alone in an empty box until January. Things were looking up this Christmas, and she could let Leanne's memory be a part of that, too. Maybe she would buy some mint M&Ms before Christmas Day arrived.

"I'll put it on the tree," Rachelle decided, holding out her hand to take the ornament. She stood up and selected one of the few empty spots on the tree. She slid the ornament delicately onto the branch and looked at it. It hung just below the red bow, which remained at the top of the tree. She felt a spark of satisfaction to see the two decorations together.

"Are you ready to go now?" Katie asked. She smiled proudly at the Christmas tree and twirled so her skirt fluffed out.

"Yes, Katie, I am."

Katie picked up the tray of apples and opened the door for Rachelle, who could tell the girl would rather skip than walk. She appreciated the care Katie took for the well-being of the apple tray. The walk was long for Rachelle, but watching the girl make it so easily and joyously made the distance feel shorter.

Once they reached the house, Katie gave in to temptation and skipped up the path to her front steps and knocked on the door. A dark haired woman in a silver sweater and a green elf hat answered the door.

"Katie!" she exclaimed. "I was wondering when you would be back." She shooed the girl inside. "Take that to the dessert table."

Katie ducked behind her mother and disappeared into the house.

Then the woman turned to Rachelle, stepping onto the porch to help her up the stairs.

"You must be Rachelle," she said, moving her walker up the two steps and then offering her arm to Rachelle, who took it. "I'm Lucia. I hope Katie didn't bother you too much."

"Oh, no," Rachelle replied with a smile. "Not at all. Thank you for sending her."

She followed Lucia into the party. The house was warm, bright, cheerful, full of people. The smell of chocolate, peppermint and cinnamon drifted from the dining room.

She started to make her way towards the desserts when Katie ran up and grabbed her hand.

"Mama let me put frosting on the cookies this time!" she exclaimed. She suddenly dropped Rachelle's hand and ran back to the dining room, returning a moment later with a snowflake-shaped cookie dripping with purple icing.

"Thank you." She tried a bite and nodded approvingly. Satisfied, Katie bounced away to join her friends in her bedroom.

The rest of the party was full of people and desserts and small talk, just like any other Christmas party. Rachelle loved seeing the mothers with their babies and Katie and her friends running around the tables. She talked to the mothers and smiled at the babies, who seemed unsure of the strange old woman talking to them. She understood, since her own children had been those babies before.

She left the party at eight thirty, which was later than she'd expected to stay. Katie walked her home, carrying the nearly empty fruit tray and skipping, hyper from all the sugar she'd eaten, across the lightly frosted grass. She helped Rachelle open the door and saw her inside. The Christmas tree was still beautifully lit, shimmering through the window.

"Merry Christmas!" Katie shouted, waving as she ran back down the street. Rachelle watched her from the porch, just to make sure she made it home safely.

Rachelle locked the front door and sat down on the couch, the happiness in her heart outweighing her exhaustion. The red bow at the top of her Christmas tree sparkled. She admired it for a minute. Then she stood up to get ready for bed and turned off the living room light, but left the lights on the tree plugged in. She could see the multicolored light shining down the hallway from her bed as she fell asleep.

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Yeah, I actually wrote something I said I was going to, for once. You must be in shock.
I hope you enjoyed! I'm sorry that it was a little long; I'm just making up for lost time. Many thanks to my friend Paige for proofreading this for me. Have a good Christmas, Hanukkah, or other winter holiday of your choice.