Christmas Promise
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The icy Christmas Eve air seeped in through the window frames and settled in Maya’s bones, stealing away her sleep. She woke with a shiver in the back seat of the car and spent her first few waking moments watching her breath as it swirled and evaporated.
Not wanting to lose warmth by shifting in her bundled layers of clothing and thin blanket, she glanced toward the front seat. Her father had not yet returned.
A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek as Maya tried to stop the sobs from bursting free.
She spoke into the silence, her breath rising like smoke. “I just want my dad. Please bring him back to me.”
Wet cold trails of tears streaked her face.
For the last year, they had driven from town to town, her father finding and losing jobs. Between medical bills and alcohol, the well had run dry, and eventually the gas tank, too. The car — stuffed with their remaining possessions — still carried the weight of not only her mother’s knick-knacks, but her last words as well.
The sound of her father’s knuckles rapping on the side window of the car yanked Maya from her memories. A woman stood beside him. Her hair was pulled tight into a bun, sharp eyes tinged with knowing and pity, and there was a firm set to her jaw. Maya gasped. She looked like a social worker.
When the key turned in the lock, Maya cried out, “No, Dad! Don’t let her take me away! I want to stay with you!”
Her pleas rose to a hysterical pitch and the blanket fell away as she wedged herself against the opposite door.
The woman bent and peered into the car. Her eyes softened. “Hello, Maya.”
Close up, the woman reminded Maya of a teacher she once had when she used to attend school. “Please, Daddy, no,” she whimpered. “We told Mom we would take care of each other.”
Her father reached inside and gathered her into his strong arms. “That’s what I am trying to do,” he said, rocking her back and forth. “It’s Christmas, and my gift to you is to fulfill my promise to your mom. I need to get better so I can take care of you. I need to be better.”
He looked over his shoulder at the woman standing on the curb.
“Betty was a good friend of your mom’s in school. She and her husband have four children. They’ll take care of you until I am ready. You’ll be warm and fed. Your gift to me is to stay with Betty.” He hesitated. “And—to forgive me.”
Maya sobbed freely into his chest. She missed her father. When he drank, it was as if he disappeared inside the bottle, leaving only a shell of himself for her. The knot in her stomach loosened, though her voice was tight. “Will they really take care of me?”
“Yes,” he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’ll be back soon, Maya. I promise.”
Her heart fluttered, and for the first time in a long while, she managed to smile through her tears. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but the warmth of a Christmas promise would be enough.
Looking for more hopeful holiday reads? Check these out!
- A Christmas Eve Wish – Christmas Eve Poem
- Christmas Traditions – Personal Essay
- A Gift for Sandy – Creative Christmas Nonfiction
- A Christmas Carol – My Favorite Things
Brenda Cox
Brenda Cox grew up in a small suburb in the United States but has lived most of her adult life in Asia, where she served as a humanitarian aid worker. She began writing later in life to vent and to help make sense of the world. Brenda now enjoys writing fiction, especially very short stories. Recently, she has had several of her stories published in literary journals, including Macrame Literary Journal, Cranked Anvil (Micro Monday), The Polk Street Review 2025 Anthology, and the MockingOwl Roost Literary Magazine. Brenda is retired and resides in Europe with her husband of forty-two years.
Find more from Brenda on her website.
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