A Promise Across Time [Completed]

A New Year's Eve to Remember (1965)

January 1965
Sweden

Once again, Raven had outdone herself. What had started as a simple idea of a family gathering for New Year's Eve had snowballed into a full-blown neighborhood affair. She had done something like this before—back in 1963, organizing a community event that brought together people in a way that hadn't been seen in years. This time, Raven was once again pulling strings that seemed almost impossible to coordinate.

It was as if she had an innate ability to bring people together, to make them feel like they were part of something bigger. At a tender age of twelve, she had that charm, that magnetic pull. And now, just as in 1963, she had managed to get the entire neighborhood excited about the New Year's Eve celebration she had envisioned—a variety show where everyone could participate, share their talents, and create a sense of community.

I watched in awe as the square filled up with people from all corners of the neighborhood. String lights hung from every post, twinkling like stars overhead. The air was crisp, filled with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. Tourists who happened to be strolling through the area paused, intrigued by the festive atmosphere, and soon enough, they, too, became part of the growing crowd.

Grandma Arntine decided to stay home, citing her persistent back pain, though she assured us with a warm smile that she'd be watching from her bedroom window as we counted down to the New Year. "Don't worry," she said, "I'll have the best view of the fireworks from up there." Even though she wasn't physically with us, her presence would still be felt, just as it always was.

Raven, of course, was in her element. She flitted about from one group to the next, making sure everything was running smoothly. Her excitement was infectious—she had a way of making everyone feel like they were an integral part of the evening. I still can't believe it that this child, can do something like this. She's like a magnet that pulls everyone towards her.

"Frida!" she called, hurrying over to me with a grin. "Are you ready?"

I nodded, my heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Raven and I had planned a few performances for the evening. It was her idea, naturally, to make this more than just a neighborhood party. We would perform, and people could donate as a gesture of appreciation. The donations weren't mandatory, of course, but we'd set up a small basket on the makeshift stage, and to our surprise, people were already dropping money in, assuming it was for charity.

Tourists, especially, were generous, thinking they had stumbled upon some local fundraising event. We hadn't expected that, but it was a pleasant surprise. All the donations, Raven decided, would go to the local children's hospital. Her heart was always in the right place.

The night kicked off with some local performers—families showcasing their talents, from kids dancing to elderly couples singing traditional songs. The atmosphere was electric, the community coming together in a way that felt magical. And then, it was our turn.

Raven took the stage first, her confidence radiating as she stood beneath the glowing lights. She was wearing a simple but elegant dress, the kind that sparkled just enough under the lights to draw attention without being over the top. She looked at the crowd, smiled, and then began to sing.