https://Voice.club - He would get there in plenty of time, he’d told them. They shouldn’t fuss. The blizzard had done its worst and now it was over, wasn’t it? Snow was piled high and the morning was cold, but the sun was shining, and he had his heavy coat and perfectly good boots. When had walking down the road become such a cause for alarm?
Everybody was far too involved with him, anyway. It had just been three months, but everyone in the family—even people at church—was so eager to get him “back into life,” whatever that meant. They’d suggested that he organize the Christmas poinsettia sale, which Kate had done for, what, fifteen years? That would have made her laugh. He’d never liked poinsettias. Gaudy, sprawling things. Except the single one Kate had always chosen for the vase on the piano. So warm and lofty it looked as she’d sit there singing the old carols he loved while the snow fell silently outside.
His daughter had taken over the poinsettia sale, and probably her house would be full of them. He braced himself as he walked in the road, where the snow was packed, and determined not to comment on them. Or on the too-modern Christmas music she’d choose to play over the computer. Horrible. Even the choir in church sang songs that sounded like top 40 hits instead of the old carols.
She meant well, of course. They all did, he supposed.
As soon as he arrived, he pushed back the sleeve of his coat to check his watch—he was on time, certainly? — and it was when he looked up again that he saw it. A white ceramic vase placed carefully on the table in the window of the alcove, and in it a single poinsettia.
And there, just behind the flower, the face of his youngest grandson. A sudden grin and then a blur, as he dashed off to tell the others Pop was here. When the door opened, he could hear someone singing.
