A Christmas Letter

• Miriam Smith, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2018

*Hark! The herald angels sing. Glory to the new born king*... the radio crackled as carols played and Christmas Day drew nearer. The muffled song clashed with the sound of an early-opened Christmas present; a scarlet toy train which clicked along wooden tracks. Elizabeth watched as the children sat in front of the tree where the train careered towards them. It was gone in a flash around the opposite side of the tree and returned just as quickly. The children squealed and giggled as they watched.
The tree was decked with lights, their colours placed in a recurring pattern, spiralling down the branches of the green pine. Baubles and bells were carelessly strung off each branch and shook with the footsteps of passers-by. A glowing gold angel was perched on top like a bird. Just below the angel were two photos, one of her 21 year old son, Jack, who had been away at Vietnam for years, and had left his family worrying for weeks with no letters. The other picture was of Elizabeth’s daughter, Julie, whose two children had just rushed outside into the courtyard.
The television was muted and showed images in dull colour as the news reporter delivered the latest news on the Vietnam War as the 4th anniversary of America's combat involvement was being approached. The screen funnelled into blackness as Elizabeth couldn’t bear to hear any more about the atrocities of Vietnam while her son was still fighting.
There was a knock at the door. Elizabeth walked to the door and turned the handle. At the door stood a man, in a uniform of khaki green, with badges lined over the right breast of his jacket. In his hand he held an envelope which read;
TO: MR AND MRS JACKSON HUGHES
Elizabeth fumbled to open the letter as she called out to her husband who was outside talking to Julie’s children as they ran through the garden beds. She heard him move through the back door and he raced to her side when he saw the fear in her eyes. She shut her eyes and blinked before continuing to read through blurred vision.
DECEMBER 24 1968
320 BARCELONA AVE, WESTERVILLE OHIO
THE SECRETARY OF THE ARMY HAS ASKED ME TO EXPRESS HIS DEEP REGRET THAT YOUR SON, SPECIALIST 4 JACK T. HUGHES DIED IN VIETNAM ON 18 DECEMBER 1968, FROM WOUNDS RECEIVED WHILE ON COMBAT OPERATION WHEN HIT BY HOSTILE SMALL ARMS FIRE.
PLEASE ACCEPT MY DEEPEST SYMPATHY. THIS CONFIRMS PERSONAL NOTIFICATION MADE BY A REPRESENTATIVE OF THE SECRETARY OF THE ARMY.
ROBERT G WHITEHALL MAJOR GENERAL USA
Her eyes glanced back over the letter as the words became obscured. Tears cascaded down her cheek before hitting the polished timber floor. The pain was indescribable and Elizabeth struggled to form words as Jackson slowly closed the door. The only reminder that time continued was the relentless click of the toy train around the track. Without that, she was simply lost in the dark.