Sister of my Heart

December 2017 Christmas Dreams Story Contest Entry

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Sister of my Heart

I am most assuredly back Dear Reader!
As promised, the snow has begun to fall once more and so the lamp-lighters and narrators must apply their trade.

Welcome to hopefully the first of many 'Narrator Fellow's Christmas Omnibus's!

*Results may vary, opinions given on such topics as 'The French' are not the opinions of Christmas Corp. LLC or it's subsidiaries but entirely those of the staff member known only as 'The Narrator'.

December 2017 Christmas Dreams Story Contest Entry


Away we must go, to a hospital, you know?
Where a bitter young woman sits sulking alone.
She... Blast!

I never was good with rhymes, I really must apologise Dear Reader.

How the devil that mad ‘Doctor Seuss’ fellow kept it up for so long I have absolutely no idea!
Only a perfect mix of German precision and American craziness could be that confusing yet organised, I swear.

I am frightfully sorry Dear Reader but I really must desist with these awkward shenanigans.
That should teach me to try and do something different for once I’d say!
One must always work towards their strengths after all, what?

Let’s try this one again, shall we?


Hello Dear Reader!

It is I, your mysteriously appearing, snow-loving British narrator friend!
Back once again, as promised, at this most auspicious time of year.

While I’m sure it would be awfully fun for us to catch up after such an eventful year I must, as they say, get down to ‘brass tacks’ I’m afraid.
It would probably spoil the yule tide mood for me to explain that I get paid per tale told but-
Oh bother, I really am making a mess of it this year, aren’t I?

Nevermind, onward I say!

Once again I come baring stories to delight, warm even the coldest of hearts and infuse the soul as only a well-narrated Christmas tale can at this most delightful time of year.

This year I am feeling particularly generous, don’t you know?
Accordingly I offer not one, not two, but three tales of woe and hope from my great big book of leather bound Christmas treats to delight you all over the festive season!

Let me present to you:
‘The Christmas narrator fellow’s great Omnibus’ for December in the year of our Lord Two-thousand-and-Seventeen!

Without further ado, our first tale gets right to the heart of matters you could say, in more ways the one, and it is my pleasure to present to you "Sister of my heart"


...... .. .. .....


As you will have no doubt gathered from my initial attempt at beginning this tale.
The aforementioned ‘bitter’ young woman currently 'sulking' alone within a hospital bed of all things, despite her grand old age of Twenty-two (which I personally believe is far too old for such actions to be considered proper) is commonly known by the name 'Sally' to most people.

The name is short for ‘Salvesterin’ I’m afraid, Salvesterin Silvestri, a frightfully horrible name that’s almost as bad as ‘Napoleon’ in my humble opinion.
Parents can be so cruel in the pursuit of 'respecting family history', can't they?

Her family were originally Italian of course.
Dear Sally is actually from the Bronx herself, born in a broken down elevator on the fourth floor of her childhood apartment block home, but I digress...

In recent years she has embraced the gossip column mandated ‘true’ Italian-American lifestyle well. Still not enjoying her name, naturally, but also not letting her rather high-strung new city friends know of her formerly ‘low-born’ status either.

She’s gotten into a nasty habit of telling anyone that will listen that she was born in a small holiday resort just outside of Rome where her family were vacationing at the time, don’t you know?

A most amusing lie when you consider that she has in fact never travelled more than one state over from her current home, let alone seen the more austere sights of true culture in cities like Rome, London or Pari- Well, maybe not Paris actually?...

Frightful place, full of French people wouldn’t you believe!

Anyway, she has of course never actually owned a passport, let alone travelled so far across the globe before having even come into this world to start with.
Yet, despite that minor wrinkle in her life, she has managed to paste over it rather well with a mix of hard work and many, many little white lies to the contrary.

She’s put a lot of effort into the facade she puts up of being a well-bred ‘Lady’ to her friends usually... although in her current state the definite nasally 'twang' of her Latin-infused childhood accent is hard to mistake for anything else I assure you.

She is, of course, currently angry, as to be expected of a Bronx-native in general or so I’ve been told.
Quite rightly so I’d say too, the doctors have taken her secret stash of cigarettes away once more after all!

She believes that she has very little time left on this Earth and understandably wishes to enjoy the time she has to the fullest.
Her recently wealthy, high-flying family being far too busy on this winters eve to visit her after so long spent in this same cookie-cutter hospital room at all when there are many more interesting things to do and people to drink...

Oh! I do apologise, I meant that the other way around of course!
Sally has been here, within this once great medical institutions hallowed halls for what feels like an eternity.
Waiting on a transplant that she honestly does not expect will ever materialize to a point where even the infrequent and dwindling visits of her friends cannot perk her up anymore.

I’m sure a visit from her newly made ‘CEO’ Father, now social-climbing obsessed Mother or her many and varied big brothers would have helped in that regard.

Even her often passed-over cousins would be a blessing at this point, despite her family having generally ignored their existence in recent years due to the connection which may be drawn to their past lives of squalor, may have helped calm her nerves this night but unfortunately they are all too busy with prior engagements while also having no idea that she happens to be ill to start with sadly.

‘Making something of yourself’ and ‘dragging yourself up by your bootstraps’ (in a way that I’m sure a lesser narrator would love to wax lyrically about with zeal) can often have some unforeseen side-effects to those around you I’m afraid.

A problem which, in another world, Sally’s father would likely have come to understand rather well when his daughter’s body finally gave up on her due to complications on Christmas Eve itself.

The fact that he would only have found out a day or so later when called by a rather hassled hospital rep about funeral arrangements would have eaten away at the once proud man for years to come I’m sure... had it not been for some timely intervention at least.

If you were with me last year Dear Reader to witness Nappa’s special day, then I believe you may already know where I’m going with this of course, but the rules must be observed and so I will do my best to explain the situation as succinctly as possible for you just in case.

I believe the best way to put it would be something like ‘that is all about to change Dear Reader’.

I wouldn’t drag you along to view such an unfortunate situation without a reason at this magical time of year after all!
Let us listen in and find out more, shall we?

I believe this would be an appropriate time for us to roll our customary title card at long last as well so-


Sister of my heart


-Ah, that’s better!

As I was saying, let’s see what is to come of Sally on this bitterly cold New York Christmas evening at long last, shall we?


“Ms Silvestri, I’ve just gotten word that a donor has been found.”


“Yes, an unfortunate young man has been brought in who’s a near perfect match for you. We’ve got to hurry and get you into prep for surgery right away but you should finally be off that Cardiopulmonary-bypass machine you’ve been complaining about so vigorously of late by this time tomorrow.”



Oh... I may have made yet another mistake Dear Reader?

I really do apologise, I’m not sure what’s wrong with me this year!
I seem to have brought us in a few hours of treacherously difficult surgery too soon for the story to be ‘ready’ for your enjoyment somehow, despite having just rolled out title cards and everything?

I really must apologise, these things are usually much more straightforward.

As you can probably guess by that short burst of conversation, the once brooding ‘Sally’ is now rather buoyant with joy at the prospect of living her life once more.

While I only touched on it earlier, you may still have inferred that Sally Silvestri was not a well woman at all up to this point.
Truly it was only her Fathers recently earned fortune which had kept her alive as long as it has, despite the man’s lack of effort in visiting his poor offspring in her time of need personally of course.

Leaving someone on a ‘Cardiopulmonary-bypass machine’ for an extended period of time is highly irregular, but as the old saying goes:
‘Bribe enough people and the world will start turning’... or something like that at least?

I’m sorry to inform you, Dear Reader, that poor Sally’s heart was shot...
Not literally of course!

That would be a whole other tale for a whole other time I assure you.
No, no, Sally’s heart is ‘shot’ in the colloquial use of the word, meaning that it no longer works in the slightest, you see?

She’s been stuck in a hospital for months now, kept alive by machines and constantly having her mood sour worse by the day with a heart transplant looked further from reality with each passing moment.

Truly the heart she is about to receive is something she will consider a ‘Christmas miracle’ or at the very least a dream come true, although maybe that’s only a matter of perspective considering the poor young man who died in order for her to get it.

That is actually the main focus of this story, believe it or not?

We’ve not even started the story properly at all yet despite my rambling on like this and we already have one Christmas miracle under our belts, how wonderful is that?
I will endeavour to keep the pace going in such a delightfully upbeat way Dear Reader, I pledge to you with utmost fervour!

Now let’s see here... I’ll just skip a few pages now.
Open-heart surgery really doesn’t make for a good Christmas tale when described in such graphic detail Dear Reader, take me at my word on that one.

Ah Ha!

I think I’ve found our original target starting point at long last.
Yes, this looks about right...

There’s only one way to see I guess?

We should dive right back in here I’d say, see how Sally is doing several hours later, minus one dead lump in her chest but plus one newly beating heart and accompanying scars to show for it!


Sally’s head rolled awkwardly against the pillows behind her as the anaesthetic slowly finished its hours-long process of wearing off completely at long last.

It took her a few minutes to fully realise what was going on and slowly her hand crept up disbelievingly to cup just underneath one rather sore feeling breast.

Despite the gauze covering over the stitches in her chest she could still feel them there and hesitated only a moment in disgust before pushing on to press her hand flat against her chest, feeling the reassuring beat of a real, working human heart within her petite cavity once more.

Pain began to register in her head, as did the dimly lit room, IV drip, beeping machinery and the still attached presence of her once hated Cardiopulmonary-bypass machine.

None of that mattered to her though as a small, delicate smile reached her lips and tears of joy started falling from her eyes in response to an upwelling of emotions that hit her full force in that very moment.

’She was going to live!’
After so much time focusing on her death, seemingly inevitable and inescapable.
She was going to live!’

Nurses came in droves as her heart monitor picked up its pace slightly, which due to the nature of her recent surgery was a matter of interest for the staff of the ICU unit that night, but Sally didn’t care at all as they moved around her and talked incessantly.
All she could do was hold her hand flat to her chest and cry as the gentle thump continued on beneath her fingertips to-


Blast! I’ve just realised this isn’t the correct starting point for this story either?!
I’m so terribly sorry Dear Reader!

Something seems to be wrong with my book today, this is all frightfully embarrassing and wholly my fault but please, I beg just one more chance to get it right at last?

I shall not fail you again!

Now let’s see... no... no...
Let’s check a few more pages over and... no, too soon still...

Sally really does spend a horribly long time in the ICU ward I’m afraid, far longer than is strictly necessary most of the time due to a mix of her Fathers money making the Doctors cautious and the rather confusing results being received from her first run of biopsy tests.

The results are so out of the ordinary that one rather intrepid, not to mention emotionally stilted, Doctor took it upon himself to ‘investigate’ them further by tracing back the original heart donor in hopes of finding more information he could abuse to publish a paper on his findings and-

Ah Ha! ‘This time for sure!’ to paraphrase that oddly popular phrase I’ve seen dotted around over the last few days for some unfathomable (probably American) reason, at least.
I’m sure this is the right point this time; I just know it Dear Reader, how very exciting, what?

Tally Ho, Dear Reader!


Sally rolled over slightly in confusion as a gentle, almost hesitant knock came to her hospital room door.

It really had become ‘her’ hospital room at this point.
Considering the numerous creature comforts she’d ended up bribing her nurses into buying for her when her family were less than helpful in supplying them by way of not actually coming to visit yet, despite the traumatic surgery she’d just been through.

Her parents are currently holidaying in the sun at a retreat if Sally’s social media account is to be believed.
Her Brothers, on the other hand, all contended that they are far too busy to ‘baby’ her in the same way her parents would growing up, an unfortunate stigma she has had to live with for a while now due to her being both the youngest child and the only girl in the family growing up, sadly.

Slowly the door eased open and a woman poked her head inside nervously.
As she took in the empty room around them she seemed to calm somewhat before turning curious eyes onto Sally’s supine form at last.

“I hope I’ve got the right room, I walked in on some poor man having a sponge bath a minute ago, and it was terribly embarrassing for all involved I must say...”
Sally found herself taking an instant liking to the woman as the self-deprecating smile on her face, tinged only slightly by a mischievous glint and something else she couldn’t identify, warmed her in ways the awkward niceties of her nurses hadn’t managed in months.
“Are you Sal... Salve-”

Before the woman could make an even worse mess of her already difficult and awkward name Sally waved a hand up in protest while offering the poor woman an inviting smile.

“Just call me Sally, everyone else does...”
The unspoken but still felt ‘did’ that she corrected herself with mentally as her mind stepped back over to her missing friends and family who obviously didn’t care enough to even bother visiting her these days, once again hurting more then she’d like to admit, even to herself.

As if the correction had actually left Sally’s lips, the older woman at the doorway’s face softened in understanding and with only a brief pause to straighten herself out she stepped into the room properly, letting the door shut behind her as she paced towards Sally’s bed with only mild caution present in her walk.

A long neglected visitors chair was deftly pulled into use and the strange new woman settled herself down with rather impressive grace to offer Sally a slightly strained smile from her new position.

An awkward silence began to form between them both as they took each other in as a whole.
Sally’s eyes scanning the woman up and down from her neat but conservatively styled hair to her black dress which looked plain by Sally’s usual standards yet seemed to suit the woman to some degree in her honest, if not very well informed, opinion.

The woman in turn watched Sally, although her eyes seemed to drift quite often downwards slightly towards the lying woman’s breasts with a hint of longing on her tired face.

“So... Hi? How can I help you today?”
Sarcasm had always been a weapon of choice for Sally when she felt uncomfortable, a sad side-effect of growing up in an apartment dominated by her seemingly ever-present army of brothers most likely.

The new woman seemed to start suddenly in surprise, as if being shaken from her thoughts by Sally’s words, probably because that is exactly what happened if we’re being entirely truthful on the matter.

“I’m terribly sorry Dear, what must you think of me? Barging in like this without a word so suddenly...”
Yet again Sally found herself smiling at the woman’s worried tone of voice, edged by a rather pleasant if slightly muted ‘British’ accent (polite enough to rival my own of course) which had obviously had more than a few years to be tempered by living in the Colonies to her measure.
“I’m Miranda Crawford, the Doctors contacted me a few days ago and I just had to come to see you.”

Sally paused in confusion to watch as the woman, Miranda apparently, seemed to gather herself together for speech once more.

“I wanted to come... after I heard, I... um...”
She shifted awkwardly in her seat once more before finally meeting Sally’s eyes with a mix of emotions obvious across her face.
“They probably didn’t tell you of course but my... child... died recently, I was out of the country at the time and when I finally got back they’d already followed through with her wishes as an organ donor so...”

Sally froze in worry as the woman’s presence finally made sense.
Her hand unconsciously came up to cup at her chest once more, feeling out that reassuring beat as she found herself doing quite regularly these days, this time while staring back at the woman in surprise.

“I know my visiting like this is probably against some kind of rules or such but I just had to come and... well, the Doctor who phoned me got a detail wrong which I felt I simply must come and explain properly to you in person...”
Miranda hesitated once more before diving in with a rushed burst of words that she’d obviously been holding onto for a long time in her own mind.
“I just wanted to reassure you that the heart they gave you wasn’t from some young man at all but a girl instead, my daughter, and that she would be truly happy that you received it because... because...”

Miranda trailed off as her eyes drifted down to stare intensely at her nervously knotted fingers instead of continuing on.
For her part, Sally stared at her bowed head in wide-eyed surprise.

While the Doctors had said something about the donor for her heart being a man, she hadn’t really given it much thought at the time, being far too overjoyed at the prospect of living to care about such a seemingly minor detail... one which apparently had a greater meaning and weight to her donor’s Mother for some potentially obvious reason.

Slowly her head cocked to the side questioningly and after licking her dry lips slightly Sally eventually spoke up, breaking the awkward pause in the conversation for the sake of her own curiosity more than anything at this point.

“What was her name?”

The woman’s head snapped up to stare at Sally in surprise which quickly bled into a wide smile of pride making Sally briefly reconsider her own, well-intentioned, choice of a conversation starter.

“Her name was Abby, Abigail Jean Crawford. She was such a beautiful girl, you remind me of her a little in your eyes and-”


Just like that they were off Dear Reader!

Sally settled herself back against her pillows and watched as years of obvious pride came pouring out of the still grieving mother before her.

The full story did eventually come out, the mix-up by the hospital being understandable to a degree when Miranda finally admitted almost casually that her beautiful daughter ‘Abby’ had once been her baby boy ‘Angus’.

Sally couldn’t help cringing sympathetically at the name which ‘Abby’ once had to bear, but if anything that only seemed to amuse Miranda as she went off on yet more tales of Abby’s youth and the problems that terribly chosen name had caused them all.

Sally heard about the tear-filled night when Miranda’s son came to her and finally confessed ‘his’ true feelings about ‘himself’.

She did her best to offer a shoulder to cry on or a gentle hug as Miranda told her everything she could think of from Abby’s favourite color to the first crush she ever admitted to having.

Once the flood started there really did seem to be no way for Miranda to stop its continuous flow.
Even I, in my capacity as a professional narrator, am left in awe of how much she told Sally about her heart-donor in the few short hours they had together.

Eventually, the stories of Abby’s life petered off as emotions took their place and Sally, against her better judgement, allowed Miranda to place her own hand upon her chest to feel the still-beating heart inside.


“She would have been so happy to know she helped you dear... My Abby always did have a big heart, I’m surprised they could even fit it into that chest of yours.”
Despite the still pained undertone behind the joke they both found themselves laughing lightly over it anyway.

“I’m very thankful for her gift, and that you came here to tell me so much about her as well Miranda.”
There wasn’t a word of a lie in those simple and ironically ‘heartfelt’ words from Sally’s usually bitter lips.

While even a few hours before she had honestly not even thought about ‘who’ her mystery donor was, now her sacrifice had taken on a whole new meaning for the usually repressed young woman.

She felt growing affection for Miranda in turn as well, as they both bonded over old tales of a poor confused young girl who grew into a self-assured, if still clumsy and a little quiet, young woman... struck down far before her time was due...

“She really would have liked you Sally, you’re such a nice girl.”


-And they say that Sally's heart grew three sizes that day.
With the older women's ear tucked to her still-beating chest so warmly...

Not literally grew, mind you, Dear Reader?
That would be most unfortunate after all!

Why, a human heart grown to that size would be simply monstrous!
Blood would be forced out as such high pressure that... Ah, but I digress...

Oh dear, I believe my little aside has ruined the moment somewhat yet again, hasn’t it?

Maybe we should leave the pair of them to their rather awkward first meeting and check back in on them in a few pages time, for the sake of brevity, of course?

Let's see now...
Ah! This looks like a good point to pick up from.

I do apologise, that interruption was most unprofessional of me I must say.
This really hasn’t been my day today sadly.


“I brought you some new books to read and some apples.”
A little smile played across Sally’s lips as the unmistakable voice of Miranda greeted her, her eye shut in feigned sleep to avoid having to converse with the nurses who would be in soon with her breakfast.
“Oh honestly, you’re just as bad as Abby was. You’re not fooling anyone into thinking you’re asleep at the moment dear and if it didn’t work on me back when she wanted a day off school then it’s not going to work on me now in a hospital of all places!”

Sally’s eyes snapped open to stare almost lovingly up into an equally care-filled face of Miranda as she came further into the room as usual, snagging up her now customary chair as she went.

Neither of them had really known what to do with themselves when visiting time finished on the first day they met, but even Sally could admit to herself that she felt just a tiny thrill of joy in her new heart when Miranda turned up the next day, minutes after visiting hours began once more.

Over the last few weeks she’d learned even more about the wonderful woman beside her and the pair had truly bonded in a way which both would only hesitate to call a ‘mother/daughter-like’ way for the sake of each other’s feelings and a still raw respect for Abby’s passing.

Miranda found in Sally something to keep herself going at last.
Having lost her husband a few years ago, then finding out that she had also lost her daughter had almost broken the proud, yet gentle woman.

At first, it was only her drive to correct the hospital’s mistake which kept her moving with determination but Sally, despite the airs she liked to think she could put up, was so painfully vulnerable in so many ways that were obvious to Miranda’s experienced eye.

Just as her own heart had gone out to her once ‘son’ on the day ‘he’ finally confessed to her about ‘his’ feelings, so did it go out to Sally as she slowly came to realise that the poor girl was so dreadfully alone despite all the talk she gave of her large family and successful parents.

Sally on the other hand found herself almost unconsciously drawing nearer to Miranda with every visit they shared.
The woman listened to her, she gave her attention in a way her own mother never had and more than that they understood each other, or seemed to at least, from Sally’s perspective.

At first it had been a little awkward, knowing the woman was only really there chasing the ghost of her child within Sally’s own heartbeat, but time tends to have a habit of changing such things quite often.

With each passing day that went by Sally found herself growing closer and closer to Miranda, sharing stories and facts about her own life which she wouldn’t have dreamed of sharing in any other situation to anyone.

Her confession that her first crush and resulting kiss was with a girl, one of a rather large contingent of Latina girls that her mother had always told Sally to avoid at all cost when they lived in their old apartment building, surprised Miranda but the reaction was brief and quickly replaced by warm acceptance which Sally had only dreamed of someday feeling in the real world.

At this point in their oddly comfortable relationship the pair were about as close as it’s possible to be, given the timeframe involved.

Plans were already being made for them to meet up regularly when Sally was finally let out of her now annoyingly claustrophobic feeling hospital room and even wilder plans being thrown about of her joining Miranda on her next trip ‘home’ to Britain for a well-deserved holiday, just the two of them.

Miranda had even not-so-subtly hinted that there were more than a few beautiful women who might be interested in such a pretty American appearing on their shores if she did visit, much to Sally’s initial embarrassment but growing amusement and joy at being finally accepted for who she had not wanted to admit to being for so painfully long.

From that point on, every morning when they woke up, one inside her hospital bed and the other in her much more comfortable Queen-sized bed at ‘home’, they both found themselves thinking the same three words for completely different reasons.


‘Thank you Abby’
Sally’s hand drifted up to rest against her own beating chest once more as she watched the sun rise from her window.

Her heart once again filled with joy at the previously forgone days ahead of her and the potential fun to come as Miranda’s next visit brought the same zest for life she’d managed to instil into every facet of Sally’s renewed spirit lately, in a way Sally had truly never thought possible at all until now.


‘Thank you Abby’
A watery smile came to Miranda’s lips as it so often did in these silent moments she had alone.

Her sadness was tempered though by the thoughts of a once lonely young woman who would be waiting for her in a few short hours, and the still-beating heart in her chest which held such a symbolic meaning to her mind.

That heart saved Sally’s life, it had brought them both together against all odds and give Miranda’s life purpose when she had nothing left to live for, to her mind at least.

She tried to restrain her thoughts within reality and see the world for what it is but some small part of her couldn’t help but think that the heart beating away in that sweet young woman’s chest really was a gift from Abby to the girl, almost as much as it was a parting gift to her as well.

Abby had always been a girl at heart, and now that heart resides in a truly female body, as it always should have from the very start.

Miranda knew that Abby would have been happy for that fact.
She also knew that Abby would be proud of the woman she’d helped save through her own untimely departure.

Miranda was not, by nature, a religious woman but she couldn’t help but let her heart guide her just this once.

Abby was gone... but she left behind a way for her poor old Mum to keep going and helped a girl so very-much like her in personality, if not looks, to have a fresh start in life.
That was truly a miracle and a gift from the heavens if ever there was one, in Miranda’s eyes.

“Thank you Abby”


The End


Excuse me a moment Dear Reader, I think I have something in my eye... j-just...

Okay, that’s better, now where were we?
One story down Dear Reader!

Did you enjoy it?
As is customary I must, of course, offer you an epilogue of sorts before we move on which I will do with great enjoyment I assure you!


Sally went on to marry a rather nice young nurse with dusky skin and the huskiest of voices which Miranda took great joy in teasing the pair over its obviously come hither ‘bedroom-esk’ quality for many years on after their nuptials.

Sally’s relationship with her parents, old friends and family, never did recover when she finally got back out into the big wide world.
It didn’t bother her though.

Her Father still showed he ‘cared’ by sending her a rather large monthly income to enjoy and her Mother seemed to be relishing her new life of rubbing shoulders with the well-to-do of society as far as she could tell from her social media account at least, but neither mattered much to Sally when she finally came to peace with herself and them as a whole.

She had a new family now, new friends, a wife... and a new Mother.

She still lay awake some mornings, cuddled up to the blissful curves of her wife and smiling up at the ceiling while mouthing those same words as always.
The words she would always remember and give whenever a prayer seemed relevant or expected of her.

‘Thank you Abby’


Miranda, or to use her latest title ‘Grandma Mira’ earned by way of Sally’s adopted son only a few years ago, could not express how happy and fulfilling her life had become in recent times.

She got to give away a daughter at a wedding where everyone from the bride to the ‘groomsmen’, consisting of several highly amused woman and wore beautiful gowns in a white and black motif.

She got to hold a small child in her arms while hearing him excitedly call her ‘Grandma’ and explain all the things he’d done that day in pre-school.

She even got the news only yesterday that ‘her girls’ latest round of IVF treatment had been successful at long last.

Sally would be playing the waddling role of ‘Mother’ this time, and thanks to a revolutionary new treatment to turn female bone marrow into a useful replacement to the ‘male side’ of the pregnancy equation, Miranda couldn’t be happier to know that she’d have another Grandchild coming to spoil someday soon.

Names were already being floated around naturally.
Even Miranda, with all her years of ‘getting used to it’, found herself crying when Sally suggested naming her first daughter after her ‘Aunty Abby’... and laughing a few moments later when she added that if it was a boy the currently dubbed ‘Peanut’ could be named ‘Angus’ instead.

Their family was unusual-
Sally was now the hidden black-sheep of her politically and financially powerful family.

Miranda had sold up her old house in England after years of clinging onto it for the memories it offered that she never really thought she’d be able to get past.

Also there was a rather awkward conversation sitting on the horizon about why a certain expectant son would not be ‘growing curves’ as one girl in school had rather nastily assured him would happen after finding out that he had two Mothers.
-but they were happy... and it was all thanks to Abby...


The actual End!



Ahh, can’t beat a good ending really, can you Dear Reader?

Now, as promised, we will go onwards to our next story of the year an-

What do you mean we’re out of time?

I don’t care if the recording studio’s been booked for a Mariachi band at Six!
This is important and... No... Yes, well kind of, I...


Oh, Fine!
I’m so terribly sorry Dear Reader but I shall simply have to leave you at just this one tale for the year.

I may have gotten distracted on my way in this morning-
It was snowing, don’t you know?
-and that lead me to being rather late in getting us started.

Then there was that whole mess with us struggling to find the right starting point as well, so...

Well, I’d better end now before they bash the door in!
Even I’m not stupid enough to try and get in the way of a Mariachi band determined to play music at Christmas time of all things... a Mariachi band, honestly!

As always, I’ve enjoyed our little journey through the tides of the season Dear Reader, mess and all.

Next year I’ll be sure to book extra time AND set my alarm clock to make sure we can do a proper ‘Omnibus’ of Christmas tales at long last!

For now though, it is a fond goodbye from me and our cast.
From safe Sally and happy Miranda, from unnamed Spouses and little Peanuts in belly-houses-

Huh, what do you know, that rhymed?
Maybe that Doctor Seuss fellow’s ‘rhyming’ thing isn’t so hard after all, what?

Oh sorry, I really am so horribly distracted today, aren’t I?!
Thank you for being here with me for our tale this year Dear Reader, despite my less than stellar performance.

A narrator who is heard, especially at Christmas time, feels so much warm joy from it that not even the rather insistent calls of a frustrated Mariachi band can take it away from them in the weeks to come, I promise you!

For now Dear Reader,
I’ll see you next year, when the snow falls delightfully and it’s time for good cheer.

Oh bother... I seem to be stuck rhyming poorly at the end of my sentences now, don’t I?
I do apologise, I’ll work on it by next time I swear!

Thank you Dear Reader for your efforts, your attention and your precious time at this most wondrous season of the year.

May snow fall distractingly for you, as it has for me on these bright winter days.
Have a Merry Christmas and a simply wonderful New Year!

Thank you again and goodnight.

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