More than a number
Eddie hadn’t wanted to get the box of Christmas decorations from the garage. Sandra
had loved Christmas, especially decorating the house. It seemed pointless to do it now,
but Eddie felt compelled to keep the tradition for Sandra. She had become a pandemic
statistic on the news. She may have been the twenty fifth or the seventy eighth, or even
the last of the three hundred and thirty-four people taken that day. Sandra would always
be Eddie’s number one.
When he opened the box and looked inside, he could see her in his mind, her face full of
determination as she balanced precariously on a chair to hang tinsel over the door. He
put Michael Bublé on as she had, and though he normally found the songs too cheesy,
he sang along passionately as he pinned the tinsel along the door frame. Eddie even
laughed when he found Sandra’s singing Santa figurine. He used to threaten to hide its
batteries, but he smiled as it belted out a tinny Jingle Bell Rock. Finally, Eddie hung the
plastic mistletoe.
He blew Sandra’s photo a kiss as he stood beneath it.
For you, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.
Rebecca Klassen
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