Rabbit Creek Santa
“Others were old, a mishmash of bright colors, chipped paint, faded designs and cheap plastic bits that hung on her tree when she was a pup. There was even an angel she'd made in first grade.
"When my brother and I found mates, my mother gave us each a box of ornaments from the family tree," Lindy explained.
Travis asked her about each one as she unwrapped and handed it to him to hang. He held up a satiny 'Baby's First Christmas' and raised his eyebrows at the date.
"Why, you're just... a cub," he said of her twenty five years, "Assuming this is yours." "Yes, it's mine," she admitted. She'd felt pretty old these last two years. Did she look it, too? "What about you? You can't be that old," she said to cover her concern.
"Me? I'm a ripe old thirty-one and according to my mother and sisters, my clock is ticking fast." Now it was Lindy who raised her eyebrows.
"My sisters want to share their you-wouldn't-believe how-gross-disgusting-stupid-just-fill-in-the-blank Travis stories with someone and my mother wants more pups to spoil as if the five my sisters have produced aren't enough," he complained, but his laugh was one of tolerant affection.MoreLess
"When my brother and I found mates, my mother gave us each a box of ornaments from the family tree," Lindy explained.
Travis asked her about each one as she unwrapped and handed it to him to hang. He held up a satiny 'Baby's First Christmas' and raised his eyebrows at the date.
"Why, you're just... a cub," he said of her twenty five years, "Assuming this is yours." "Yes, it's mine," she admitted. She'd felt pretty old these last two years. Did she look it, too? "What about you? You can't be that old," she said to cover her concern.
"Me? I'm a ripe old thirty-one and according to my mother and sisters, my clock is ticking fast." Now it was Lindy who raised her eyebrows.
"My sisters want to share their you-wouldn't-believe how-gross-disgusting-stupid-just-fill-in-the-blank Travis stories with someone and my mother wants more pups to spoil as if the five my sisters have produced aren't enough," he complained, but his laugh was one of tolerant affection.MoreLess
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