The Contest: Write a children’s story (children here defined as approximately age 12 and under) in which wild weather impacts the holidays! Your story may be poetry or prose, silly or serious or sweet, religious or not, based on Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or whatever you celebrate, but is not to exceed 350 words.
Here’s my holiday entry:
DAD’S FIRST CLASS CHRISTMAS
It was Christmas Eve and we were taking our first ever family vacation. Disney, here we come!
Figures. The Blizzard of the Century blew in that morning.
Dad made sure we left for the airport hours early, but now the dashboard clock ticked down the minutes till our six o’clock flight. The highway was a sheet of ice. We eyed the airport from a distance, and could have walked faster than the cars crawled.
Mazie kept repeating, “Please let us make it, Lord. Please let us make it.” Each hot whisper whirled wild crystallized patterns on her window.
“Will we make it?” Mom asked.
Fisher snoozed in his car seat. That was good because Dad was nervous navigating through a gazillion snow flakes. But he still managed to sing carols the loudest.
We finally pulled in at 6:44. Wet, white freezingness smacked our droopy faces and whipped our suitcases. “Cheer up,” Dad hollered over the storm, “I’ll bet it’s just delayed.”
Our plane was gone. But there was Dad, in his ‘lucky’ (old and ugly) Santa hat, ho, ho, ho’ing from the long ticket line. Leave it to him to be jolly when our vacation was slipping away.
Dad high-fived me, hugged Mazie, and said, “Great news! We’re on Standby for the last flight tonight!” They’ll have five empty seats on Christmas Eve…sure.
Fisher cried himself blue, Mazie kept praying, and Dad and I were thumb-wrestling when they finally called our name, “Four tickets.”
“We need five!” Mazie, Mom, and I cried.
Dad pushed us to board. “Till tomorrow… Merry Christmas. I love you.”
On the plane, Mazie, and I joined Fisher in crying ourselves colors. Disney without Dad?
Just as the engines revved, Dad strutted down the isle. He made it! But then he kissed us, and said, “I’ve gotta go.”
“NO!” my sister and I cried.
“They let you board. You can’t leave now!” sobbed Mom.
Dad turned with a devilish grin and said, “Got lucky. I’m flyin’ first-class!” Then a curtain swished behind him.
Merry Christmas, Dad. You deserve it.
Head on over to Susanna’s blog to read the other entries here!