Laura's Note: This piece is a short story I wrote one Christmas season, inspired from a writer's prompt. Those really do work!

Silent Night
By Laura J. Christian

"I don't want you to remember me like this."

My mother's frail hand grasps mine as she stares at me intently, willing me to accept her softly uttered words. "I want you to remember me as I was last Christmas, when we were at the cabin and had so much fun."

Swallowing the lump in my throat I nod and squeeze her hand. My mother smiles and closes her eyes wearily. She looks so tiny and fragile lying there in the hospice bed. So different from the strong woman she had been only a few months ago.

Once again the tears rise up to choke me. How many nights have I sat at this vigil, her frail hand swallowed by my own? The hours tick away and exhaustion settles onto my shoulders like a shroud. Yet I cannot leave.

Each morning my mother awakens to find my head slumped forward onto the side of her bed, my body crumpled in the chair. Soft fingers brush my hair and I waken to the familiar sound of my mother's voice whispering "Good morning, Beautiful."

Those words have greeted my morning for as long as I could remember. Throughout my childhood, a day never went by without that whispered greeting. When I finally left home and headed to college I cried that first morning I woke in my new place alone, only to check my email and be greeted by a simple message: "Good morning, Beautiful."

I smile through my tears at the memory and swallow the lump in my throat. My father will be here in the morning, Christmas morning, to hold his wife's hand in her final hours. It won't be long now. I stretch my neck and gaze at my mother's sleeping face. She looks so peaceful. Free from pain for the moment, a small smile still playing at her lips.

With a heavy sigh, I stand up and stretch aching muscles moving quietly to the door. It was midnight and all was silent at the Fern Ridge Hospice. Slipping into the hallway I shuffle down the corridor on my way to the vending machines for a late night snack.

I pass an open doorway with soft blue lights spilling onto the floor like a pool of silk. Pausing by the door I notice soft humming coming from within. I inch up to the entrance curious to see who else was awake; perhaps another lonely soul standing guard over their loved one's final hours.

Craning my neck around the door I see her, bathed in a blue glow from the tiny Christmas tree on the end table. She is a small child no more than eight-years-old dressed head to foot in a cheery pink robe, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She is standing at the window looking out into the snowy darkness quietly humming "Silent Night".

Not wanting to disturb or frighten her I tiptoe back from the door only to be stopped by her young voice floating back to me.

"It's okay; you can come in and visit if you like."

Clearing my throat I slip inside moving to stand next to her at the window. She never looks my way but continues to stare outside. I follow her gaze and watch the soft snow drifting down and covering the land in a blanket of white.

"My mama will be here soon. She is excited to take me home." The little girl whispers.

"That's wonderful," I whisper back. "What's your name?"

"Hannah." She states turning her round face toward me. Big brown eyes peer intently at me.

"When will she be here?" I ask with a smile.

"Soon" Hannah whispers and turns back to the window. "I was hoping to say good-bye to my Daddy and brothers, but she can't wait."

Startled I stare at her.

"Daddy will be here in the morning but Mama won't wait. She needs me now."

I gape at the little girl as she turns away and climbs into her bed, laying her head on her pillow. She smiles at me as she arranges the blankets around her. Wrapping her small arms around a little brown teddy bear she closes her eyes and whispers "I'm ready Mama".

My feet feel rooted to the floor and I stand frozen, watching as the little girl lay quietly in her bed, a peaceful look on her tiny face. Only the tick of the clock on the wall above her fills the room. I catch my breath as she exhales and her small chest rises no more. I could almost see the light from her face disappearing. The little teddy bear tumbles from her grasp landing onto the floor to rest in a pool of blue light.

I stare at the bear for a few heartbeats and my eyes fly back up to gaze upon the little face, so quite and still like the porcelain dolls my mother once collected.

Drawing a ragged breath my feet suddenly regain freedom and I sprint out the door and down the hallway to my mother's bedside. I stumble forward and grab her hand. Her eyes open and she blinks up at me and smiles.

"Good Morning Beautiful" she whispers, reaching out to touch my cheek. Sobbing I lay my head next to hers and cling tightly, the image of the little teddy bathed in blue light lying alone on the floor swirling in my mind.

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