Day One
Elena didn’t hate Christmas.
As a child, she had adored everything about it—the lights, the people, the laughter, the joy. But this year was different.
She had lost her father to a heart attack over the summer. The memories still came uninvited: the sterile smell of the hospital waiting room, the harsh white lights buzzing overhead, the distant beeping of a heart monitor somewhere down the hall. She remembered the sympathetic look on the doctor’s face as he told her and her mother the news.
Now Elena sat alone in the living room of the one-bedroom apartment she shared with her boyfriend. Hunter was at work, as usual. She checked the time on her phone—12:30—and noticed a message from her mother.
Meet for lunch?
Elena replied almost immediately. Of course she would meet her. She never turned her mother down if she could help it.
She glanced down at herself. Pajamas wouldn’t do. With a quiet sigh, she pushed herself up and headed to the bedroom.
The bed was pressed against the far wall, the dresser perfectly aligned across from it. She dressed quickly in black jeans and a shirt, pulling her favorite hoodie over her head before grabbing her keys and heading out the door.
Minutes later, Elena pulled her yellow Volkswagen Beetle into the parking lot of their favorite place.
Tony’s was a small Italian hole-in-the-wall downtown. They had met here at least once a week ever since her father died.
Inside, she spotted her mother already seated by the window. Elena slid into the chair across from her.
“Mom.”
“Ah, my sunshine.” Her mother reached across the table, her smile soft. “How are you?”
Elena took her hand. “Honestly, Mom… I’m struggling. Christmas this year feels… different.”
“It’s going to.”
Elena sighed. “I don’t understand the point anymore.”
Her mother nodded, unsurprised. “I thought you might say that. Elle, I have something for you—something that might help. But you have to trust me.”
From her purse, her mother pulled out an old, worn book. The cover was softened with age.
“This was given to me by your grandmother when I was about your age,” she said. “Follow its instructions carefully. No matter how ridiculous they sound.”
Elena hesitated, then accepted the book with trembling hands. Before she could say anything, the waiter arrived.
They ordered the same thing, as always—alfredo pasta and glasses of lemon water. When the waters were delivered, they were alone again.
Elena opened the book and read the first page aloud.
Dear Jeanette,
I know you are struggling with the holidays this year. I did once too. It was my first Christmas without my parents, and I thought there was no point. A wise woman gave me a set of instructions that I am now passing on to you. I hope this book helps you find the peace you’ve lost.
Love, Mom.
Elena lowered the book. Her mother was sipping her water, her expression quietly knowing.
“I’ll take good care of it,” Elena said, clutching it to her chest.
“More important than that,” her mother replied gently, “is learning something from it, my sunshine.”
Their food arrived, and they ate in companionable silence.
Back at the apartment, Elena sat on the couch with the book in her hands. Each page after the letter was dated, each containing a simple instruction.
December Twenty-First.
Light a candle at dusk. Sit with it until the darkness doesn’t feel so heavy. Do not turn on the lights.
Elena searched through her cabinets until she found a small pillar candle tucked away. She usually saved them for power outages—but tonight felt like an exception.
When Hunter came home, the apartment was dark. Elena sat in the living room, the candle flickering on the coffee table. She was watching the flame when he stepped inside.
“H-hey, my love,” he said softly. “What are you doing?”
“Watching the flame dance.”
“In the dark?” He glanced around, clearly confused.
Elena leaned back against the couch and held up the book. “Mom gave me a task. It’s supposed to help with the weird feeling I’ve been having.”
Hunter sat beside her and gently flipped through the pages.
“So… you follow these instructions and what?” he asked, skeptical. “They magically make you feel better?”
“I follow them and I learn something,” Elena said. “What I do with that is up to me.”
He nodded. “Ah.”
He pulled her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and together they watched the flame.
Outside, snow began to fall—soft and quiet.
Before long, they fell asleep curled together on the couch, the candle still burning.
And it burned through the night.
