The Christmas Cabin: A short story

The Family

December: The late 80's

The cabin in the woods rested on 20 treed acres. Smoke puffed gently out of the chimney, mixing, and swirling with the wispy snowflakes falling softly from the steel-colored sky. The front yard, covered in snow past your ankles, was strewn with shovels, soup ladles, kitchen spoons and cups. The mama of this house, upon finding her kitchen tools in the snow, only shook her head in mild frustration. She knew this house wasn't a show piece. This was a house full of kids, full of mischievousness and full of imagination.

In the darkness, the cabin seemed to glow from within. The warmth and light spilling onto the freshly fallen snow. A half-built igloo sits on the front lawn, buckets meant for building sandcastles sit in anticipation, waiting for tiny hands to continue with their play. Even on this snowy night, bikes lay haphazardly in the snow. The banana seat of one is torn, the red and white handlebar fringe long gone by a hard yank from a rascally brother.

The cherry red cabin door opens, slamming against the log chink. The house holds steady, for it loves these rough and tumble kids. Through whoops and hollers, 5 kids, four boys and one girl, run and jump off the porch and into the snow.

Barefoot.

No socks, no shoes.

Just fifty bare toes racing through the snow.

Their toes turned pink and tingly as the five kids ran around the yard. What is this toe-chilling game you ask? Why to see who can stay out in the snow the longest, of course.

Dylan, the eldest, always tried to beat Chris, the second born, but he was scrappy you see, and won most of the time. Bruce, the third child, always felt left out of the older boy's antics, not really sure of his place in the world. He held back a bit, not really liking competition. But Ella, the fourth born, and only girl, her dark pigtails wonky from a day of play, ran with all her might. Her little arms pumped, her toes grew numb, but on she ran through the snow.

Wanting the win SO badly.

Little Drake, the baby of the family, stands in the doorway. A Christmas gingerbread man, his leg bitten off, is fisted in his chubby hand. Peeking through the lace of the curtains, Mama smiles at her wild bunch. She flips the switch for the Christmas lights, the red, blue, green, and yellow bulbs light up, illuminating the children at play.

She's tired.

Oh, so tired.

But she's grateful.

The kids last about 10 minutes outside, their feet now icicles. The last child tracking snow through the door is, of course, Chris. He's the winner again! Making their way to the cozy wood burning stove, they wrestled for the prime spot. The four older kids stretched out in front of the fireplace, lifting their frozen feet up to its warmth. Drake, always wanting to be like the older kids, hand still fisted around his precious cookie, squirms down next to Ella, his favorite sister.