A White Christmas

The doorbell rang. Mom answered the door in her usual cheerfulness. Alice walked in, examined the home where most of her Christmases were spent. The staircase had its usual garland of whimsy. The table set perfectly for the occasion. An aroma of cinnamon filled the kitchen. The house looked immaculate, it always did. The gifts, there were plenty of them. She turned over her coat and gave a look to her husband, his eyes settled deeply on hers as if to say, Alice, you can do this.

A tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Merry Christmas dear, I’m glad you could make it, how was the drive?”

Alice pasted a fake smile on her face, “Fine, it was fine.”

“Great! Well I thought we could eat breakfast, and then unwrap presents, and then do the stockings and later we’ll head to grandma’s…..or whatever… anybody wants is fine.”

Alice, overwhelmed by the thought of the day’s agenda quietly said, “That sounds great Mom.”

Alice watched as her mom bounced around, serving cinnamon rolls, pouring orange juice. Her exuberance astounded Alice. She wondered how her mother maintained this kind of enthusiasm.

Breakfast consumed, voices drowning out the sound of her mother’s favorite holiday album, the living room covered with a thick layer of holiday debris. Alice looked around the room, shining faces playing with their new gadgets. Somehow her mother had once again managed to provide everyone with the perfect gift. She always had a way of knowing what her children needed, sometimes even when they themselves didn’t know.

Alice gazed at her mother, with a new found amazement and appreciation. Her heart began to warm. Her husband wrapped his arms around her, kissed her on the cheek and said, “I told you so. “ Alice breathed a sigh of relief and a calm snow began to fall.

This post was inspired by Write on Edge. This week's prompt:
The piece should begin with “The doorbell rang” and end with “snow began to fall.”
The middle is up to you.

Thanks for reading, I think you're lovely.
Lindy