Chapter 12 Georgia
Freema,
I am so sick of snow.
-G
“Explain to me why we’re doing this again,” Georgia said. She couldn’t feel her nose or her fingers. Any heat from the thermal warmer in her pockets was long gone.
“It’s MidWinter. We need to decorate the house,” Bright said. Using a pair of pruning shears, she cut clippings from an evergreen. The wide leaves were a waxy green with violet berries that reminded Georgia of the juniper bushes outside her childhood home. The prickly bushes provided the perfect hiding spot for a young Georgia. Despite being allergic to the bush, she loved wiggling her way in under the branches.
“Is there a holiday?” she asked.
“Everyone has a MidWinter holiday,” the older woman replied.
“I’m not comfortable with broad generalizations.” Georgia shifted
