Cordelia's Last Christmas

Betsy Burke |

12/22/2007 - 12/23/07

Second Place, adult stories

Aging and loneliness can be difficult — and never more so than during the holiday season. As Betsy Burke's protagonist unwraps the ghosts (and sorrows) of Christmases past, she finds comfort in the meaning and rituals of the winter solstice. Close domestic detail mixed with a bit of magic enliven Burke's winning story.

Cordelia opened the box of Christmas ornaments. As she peered into the bits of colored tissue paper and sparkle, a dark feeling overtook her. It was like opening a casket of ghosts of Christmases gone by.

She drew her hands back as she noticed her fragile, transparent skin was very like the tissue wrapping of the ornaments. She was alone this year. Like the last. And the one before. No children to be with. Family dead. Lovers long gone. Most friends buried. No wonder it had been years since she exhumed this holiday box from the basement. It filled her with dread.

Her big tabby, Mortimer, felt differently. He approached the box, meowing, sniffing into its contents. He plucked a wrapped memento and shook it, striving to snap its neck. Out tumbled a little red angel Cordelia's mother had given to her when she was five.

Long forgotten, but now so familiar, Cordelia admired its silky gown and flaxen hair. How she had loved it! The eyes seemed so alive. She remembered finding just the right spot for it on the tree, next to her treasured ice skater ornament. Cozy feelings filled her as she felt the presence of her siblings hover. Their youthful laughter came back to her as she closed her wrinkly eyelids and grinned. She had survived them. They were all gone. It was down to her. Or was it was up to her?

"OK, OK! I'll do it for you, Morty!" And with determination, she retrieved a small potted evergreen tree from outside the back door of her casita. She set it on the table in the living room, steeled herself, and dug back into the box.

She next unwrapped a little house ornament she had fashioned from a matchbox. She had made it with her favorite cousin, Ruthie, on a Christmas when they were girls. As Cordelia held it up, she could see Ruthie's wild, thick hair, which was always in her eyes, eyes that sparkled with mischief as she plotted their escapades. They shared each other's deepest secrets, whispering in bed together late into the night. Together they concocted elaborate games of fantasy, in which Cordelia would often get to play the princess in need of rescuing. Ruthie had grown out of girlhood games and married. She was probably surrounded by grandchildren right this moment. Cordelia didn't know. It was decades since they had spoken.

But there was a time they were as close as one.

Cordelia grabbed a string of colored lights, and was about to plug the tangled ball into an outlet when her gaze alighted upon another artifact.

It was an elf, rather crudely constructed out of red felt and pipecleaners, with a bead for a head. This had adorned a gift from her love, a gift of fine kid work gloves. It seemed a pledge of the life they would construct together. Career, along with fear to hold hand-in-hand the depths of intimacy, had wedged them apart. But on the Christmas she received these gloves of softest skin, love bloomed with promise. He was the one she never forgot. The one who yet invaded her dream time and made her heart and her womb ache.

Tears splashed on the token from that time.

Under Mortimer's unerring gaze, Cordelia headed for the kitchen to pour herself a brandy.

"Well, perhaps a cup of holiday cheer!"

A crimson-streaked sky called her to pause by the window above the stove. She stood there until the colors faded to dark gray and her glass was empty.

She wandered outside onto her tiny front porch, which had been built around an ancient oak. Through the barren branches she could see snatches of the neighborhood. Colored lights twinkled from other homes, transforming the twilight into a wonderland. She put a hand on the cold bark of her old, dear friend. The chill breeze through his boughs breathed her name. She felt a yearning to be deep in the Earth, at his roots' depths. The light snow was turning to big flakes. She could lie down amongst his embracing roots, look up into his tangled limbs and let the snow blanket her.

How inviting! To succumb to the final rest!

A familiar furry weaving around her legs reminded her she still had an obligation. Mortimer hadn't had his dinner.

The old woman and her familiar went back inside and closed the door. Darkness, at 4:30.

"I hate when it gets dark so early." She plopped down on the rug as tears welled in her eyes. Mortimer came over and licked them, his favorite salty treat.

"I hate Christmas!" she moaned. She lay there a long while, not knowing what to do or why she should get up, when suddenly, there was a knock on the door. At first she thought no one was there, but she looked lower to discover a grinning, child-size man in an elf outfit.

"Greetings, reveler! Blessed Solstice!" He handed her a green envelope, curtsied, then disappeared into a thicket with a wave.

"Probably wants money," Cordelia muttered, as she shut the door. But curiosity compelled her as she plugged in the wad of lights and opened the missive. In the twinkly multi-colored glow, Cordelia read:



Dear Friend,

In the greatest darkness, out of winter's cold, from our deepest fears, when we most despair, when animals hide, when the leaves are gone, when the ground is hard, when Earth lies waste...

Shadows are fleeing, light is returning, warmth will come again, plants will sprout, animals will emerge, green will surround us, summer will cheer us, life will continue.

Goddess of the Winter Moon, we thank you for the mystery of rebirth, and bid you farewell as you take your rest. As you sleep now, under a blanket of your own making, be with us in all that we know, and all that we remember, as we wait for the return of light and life to the land.

In the tradition of our pagan ancestors, please celebrate with us, your Earth people, on this longest of nights, with these three gestures:

1) Bring some green nature indoors into your home (such as an evergreen tree or a sprig of holly or mistletoe).

2) Make pretty light to help us transition from darkness into light.

3) Surround yourself with those you love.

Brought to you by:

Concerned Elves for the honoring of Our Mother Goddess, Gaia, the Earth*

Blessed solstice!



Mortimer hopped up onto Cordelia's lap, shaking her reverie. As her hand stroked his soft fur, his purr vibrated through her bony lap and up into her heart.

"I'm so glad you are here with me, my feline friend." She looked over to her box of Christmases past as a tear sparkled on her cheek.

"I'm so glad you are all here with me."

She knew that on this longest of nights she would unwrap every precious bit in the box.

"Merry Christmas, my loves!"




* The language in this winter solstice ritual has been compiled from many sources. A major source is the litany written by Liz Benjamin and used by Unitarian Universalist Association member congregations.