First Christmas

It was her first Christmas since Shelly escaped the harsh winters of Buffalo. The unexpected chilly spell south Florida was having made it feel more like Christmas. Shelly watched the wind blown ripples on the Gulf of Mexico while drinking hot chocolate in her breakfast nook. She wished she had some company to share the small ham that was in the oven.

A roll of thunder in the distance and dark clouds formed above the water. Shelly wasn’t sure if she saw what she saw. It looked like a flash of lightning. Even in Florida, it was a rear occurrence for the end of December. Rain drops began to pelt the window.

Shelly looked on in fright, as she had never seen a water spout. With wide eyes she forced herself to rush down the hall and jump in the bath tub. A few minutes later when she didn’t hear the rain she figured is was safe to move, but her body seemed not to want to. A rap on the door startled her, and she sunk further into the tub.

“Shelly,” she heard. A knocking at the door, “It’s Dan. From next door.”

She opened the door to her handsome neighbor holding mistletoe over his head.

“I just came to check on you.”

She kissed his cheek, “I thought you went to Chicago?”

“My flight got canceled,” he handed her the mistletoe.

Like him, Shelly held in over her head. He pecked her lips before walking by her into the house. Her first Christmas in Florida would be the first of many Shelly would share with her husband Dan.

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