Personalized Christmas Story

For Amara, on Christmas Eve, with all our love from Nana and Pop.

Amara's Star for the Window

On Christmas Eve the snow came down slowly, as if it had all night and wasn't in any hurry. Amara watched it from the kitchen window with a mug of hot chocolate in both hands. It had three marshmallows on top, exactly: one for her, one for Mom, and one for Pepper the cat, though Pepper was only allowed to look at hers.

"What shall we do while we wait for Christmas?" asked Mom. Amara already knew. "Stars," she said. Out came the gold paper, the glue stick and the round-ended scissors, and they cut and folded and glued until the whole kitchen table sparkled. Pepper sat right in the middle of the gold paper, because cats always sit on the exact thing you need. Amara's star had seven points, which is two more than most stars. "It's for the window," she said, "so that anyone flying past in the dark can see this is a cozy house."

Then she looked out across the snowy yard at the house next door. Mr. Fisher lived there on his own. His windows were dark, except for one small lamp. "Does Mr. Fisher have a star?" Amara asked. Mom looked too. "I don't think he does." So Amara made another one. It took a long time, because she wanted it just right, with a little dab of glitter on the end of every point.

They put on boots and coats and Amara's red mittens, and crunched across the snow. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Mr. Fisher opened the door in his slippers. "Well, now," he said, when he saw the star. "Well, now." He held it as carefully as if it were made of glass. "It's for your window," Amara explained, "so anyone flying past knows it's a cozy house." Mr. Fisher put it right in the middle of his front window, and his whole face crinkled into a smile. "Merry Christmas, Amara." "Merry Christmas, Mr. Fisher."

At bedtime, Amara knelt on her bed and looked out. Her star was in her window, and Mr. Fisher's star was in his, two little gold stars glowing side by side, and all around them the snow kept falling, soft and quiet. "Nana and Pop are coming tomorrow," she told Pepper. "Nana will bring her cinnamon rolls, and Pop will fall asleep in the big chair after lunch and snore." Pepper purred, which meant yes.

Then, far, far up, something small went across the face of the moon. Amara pressed her nose to the cold glass. It was very small and very quick. It might have been a goose, flying home late. It might have been a sleigh. It might have been a snowflake on her eyelash. Amara decided she didn't need to know. Some things are nicest when they stay a little bit of a mystery. "Whoever you are," she whispered, "Merry Christmas. We're the house with the stars."

Mom came in to tuck her up. "Ready for Christmas?" she asked. "Almost," said Amara, and she snuggled down under the quilt. Pepper curled up on her feet, as warm as a hot-water bottle. Downstairs the clock ticked, slow and steady. Outside, the snow fell and fell, filling up the footprints between the two houses, Amara's small ones and Mom's big ones, all the way to Mr. Fisher's door and back.

The two gold stars glowed in the dark. The house was cozy and still. And Amara, who had made her street a little bit brighter, was fast asleep before the snow had covered the very last footprint.

Merry Christmas, Amara. Sleep well.