It was the night before Christmas, and Jamie Johnson was filled with ebullience.

She had darted into her room with a rapidly beating heart, thrown herself under the cool covers, twirled herself into a cocoon, and squeezed her eyes shut.

That was a long time ago.

Now the blankets had grown warm, and Erica’s breathing in the bunkbed above her had gone all soft and slow and sleepy. Yet still her heart pounded away, imagined presents and candy and snow dancing before her eyes. Oh, if only they could have a white Christmas! Mommy said it almost never snowed in South Carolina, but maybe…

 Jamie turned over and looked at Erica’s glow-in-the-dark clock on the wall. It was the round kind of clock, unfortunately, which meant it was almost entirely useless to her. Unless the big hand was straight up and the smaller hand was on another number—then she knew the other number was what time it was. Unless it was the other way around… Was the small hand the one that was supposed to be up? She kicked her feet beneath the covers, trying to remember.

The second hand tick, tick, ticked, like a particularly persistent cricket. How was she supposed to fall asleep with such a noisy clock?

Jamie tossed the covers over her head and pressed her hands over her ears to drown out the sound of the clock. For a moment, all was silent and calm… and then the ticking clock was replaced by the thundering beat of her heart and her own rushing breathing. It was so loud inside her head!

“Stop ruining Christmas!” Jamie whispered to herself with a glare. She wanted to go to sleep. She knew that if she did, Christmas would come faster—or it would feel like it anyway. So why couldn’t she? Surely she would become sleepier if she stood up and moved around, just for a bit. As long as Mommy or Daddy, or Erica, didn’t catch her.

Jamie swung her legs over the side of the bed and pressed her bare feet to the carpet of the bedroom floor. It felt scratchy and cool after her too-warm, soft blankets. Slowly she stood and made her way across the room to the window, carefully avoiding the dark shadows of toys strewn about the floor.

Plastic blinds glowed with light from outside. White and clean. Almost like… snow? Jamie’s heartbeat quickened. What if it had snowed? She curled her fingers around the pokey ends of the blinds and slipped her head underneath.

A disappointingly brown and green Winchester Court stared back at her beyond the glass. Jamie huffed and leaned forward, pressing her forehead and nose against the window. Her breath formed white fog on the glass, and if she squinted her eyes, she could pretend it was snow. Like a Blue Sky Moment, but different—a White Christmas Moment.

Jamie squinted, and the streetlight on the corner turned squishy and blurry, with little beams of yellow light shooting out in all directions. So did the Christmas lights on the house across the street. Everything was twinkly, and her foggy breath was snow.

Jamie ducked out from under the blinds, letting them fall back with a clatter, before the vision could end. She stood, her eyes shut tight, lingering in her White Christmas Moment.

Then, an idea occurred to her, so suddenly that her heart began hammering again. Her present for Erica! She could put it under the tree while everyone else was asleep! Jamie darted to her sock drawer and, after some fumbling, drew out the book that she had carefully wrapped in candy-cane wrapping paper a week ago. It was called The Princess and the Goblin, and she had chosen it at a bookstore with Mommy. Hopefully, Erica would read it to her.

Jamie closed the drawer, stood up, and held very, very still, listening once again.

Erica’s breathing was still soft and slow. No light issued from the crack beneath their bedroom door. Jamie hugged the book to her chest and crept, oh so quietly, across the room. She turned the handle, and the long dark hallway yawned before her, a temping flush of color glowing at the end of it.

Trembling a little, Jamie scurried down the hall and out into the blue-gray dark of the living room. There she came to a stop, and stared.

The Christmas tree stood in front of the living room window, multi-colored lights dazzling the heap of treasure below. Shiny wrapping paper of Dreaming Star gold. Gingerbread wrapping paper of Frosted Holly green. Snowflake wrapping paper of Everlasting Blue. The packages crowded about the base of the tree like a dragon-hoard of surprises. Reverently, Jamie knelt beside the heap and ran her fingers over the curve of a Cranberry Jelly red bow. The quiet of the house was soft, and the smell of the sugar cookies they had baked on Christmas Eve still hung in the air. The dark closed in, but a little world of light danced and whispered conspiratorially in the glow of the Christmas tree.

Jamie lay on her stomach, Erica’s present beside her, and tilted her head way back, until she could feel her curls touch her shoulders. She stared up up up at the tree looming before her. It was green plastic pine needles, and mismatched ornaments, and pipe-cleaner candy canes. It was spun from pure magic and possibility.

Jamie felt all that bubbly, sparkly ebullience inside, yet she was also warm, and calm. It wasn’t quite so noisy inside her head anymore. She let her chin drop to her hands, and watched green and blue and red Christmas lights warble against wrapping paper folded with Heartfelt love.

I’ll stay here until I feel sleepy enough,  Jamie thought, just before her eyes closed.

The little girl fell asleep underneath the Christmas tree, wearing plaid pajamas, bathed in light and all the colors a paint store could supply.

The clock she could not read ticked to midnight. Outside the window, joyfully defying the weather forecast, great flakes of snow began to fall, like powdered sugar on gingerbread roofs.

There was no need to squint to see this White Christmas Moment.

THE END

Merry Christmas! If you would like to, you can learn more about Honey Butter here!

— Millie Florence