363: Christmas Wreath 🎀❄️
Daily Image created using ChatGPT (Anime AI Art)
🎀 The Wreath
On the first Saturday of December, just after the morning rain, Monica stood on the porch in her fleece-lined boots, setting up the Christmas wreath. As she balanced the ladder, her brother Gilbert handed her the ribbon. “Higher,” he said, squinting. “It needs to crown the door, not hover like a confused hat.”
She rolled her eyes but adjusted it anyway. The red and gold bow caught the light, and the pinecones nestled into the evergreen as they belonged there. Real snowflakes began to fall as they stepped back to admire their work. The final outside decoration was in place, declaring seasonal greetings to guests and the neighborhood.
Inside, the house was already humming. Their mother was steeping cloves and orange peel for the punch, and their father was untangling the lights with the patience of a monk. The dog, Bruno, had claimed the hearth rug, tail thumping whenever someone passed. The nativity scene was still a work in progress. Joseph had lost a hand, and the donkey had been mysteriously chewed.
That night, the doorbell rang three times. First, Aunt Rosa with her almond biscuits and unsolicited advice. Then the neighbors, bearing a tray of cookies and a bottle of homemade liqueur. Finally, Gilbert’s friend Sam, who brought nothing but his foolish self and stayed to help hang the garland anyway.
Each time the door opened, the wreath greeted them. By the end of the week, the house was full not just of people, but of rhythm. Candles lit at dusk. Music played low. Cards tucked into the mirror frame. The wreath stayed put, silent and steady, even when the wind howled, or the door slammed, or someone leaned too hard against it while fumbling for keys.
On Christmas morning, Monica opened the door before sunrise. The street was quiet, the sky pale. She touched the ribbon, now slightly frayed, and smiled. Behind her, the house stirred with the coffee brewing, paper rustling, and someone laughing. The wreath was watching over all, bearing witness to another season.
