Daisy
Despite its presence, the sun offers no real warmth, just a deceptive glow against the backdrop of the crisp, blue morning. Each breath rises in thick clouds, vanishing into the icy stillness, and the world feels quiet, save for the occasional groan of tree limbs weighed down by frost and the distant caw of a raven cutting through the silence. The scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon filled the air, mingling with the evergreen fragrance of the Christmas tree in the living room. Sleep still clung to my limbs, but the excited chatter from the kitchen told me it was time to drag myself out of bed.
And suddenly, Dale and I are kids again.
Dale’s voice carried down the hallway, laced with impatience. “Daisy! Get your ass up, it’s Christmas! Presents don’t open themselves!”
Minus the
