Christmas Letter
Author: Kevin M. Prochaska
Price:
$11.00
 “Beautifully
written—Kevin took me on an emotional journey< throughout
this heartwarming book. An enjoyable and uplifting story!”
—Patricia Allen, Principal, St. Joseph's Catholic School
“Just wanted to let you know that I finished your book.
If it is any indication what I thought about it, I will tell you
that it made me cry! What a great story!”
—Kathleen F., University Professor, Georgia
“I loved your book, The Christmas Letter. It was a really
good book. I absolutely love the details, characters, and the way
you thought up the story.”
—Clare T., Elementary School Student, Georgia
Chapter 1
It was the same dream that crept into her sleep, as it had many
times before.
A gangly right hand appeared from nowhere, hanging in still air,
surrounded by a backdrop of pure white. The dream unfolded as if
she were riding on the saddle of the wrist, the hand moving forward
with intent. Smooth, creamy skin folded around the back of the hand,
the smoothness terminating against the rough ridges of knuckles.
Beyond the knuckles, fingers curled into the palm, with the exception
of the forefinger, which extended straight and rigid, pointing into
the whiteness. The hand moved beneath her, the gentle pony, and
she held fast.
The fingertip pressed forward to a weathered brass doorbell that
came into view. Wooden steps appeared below the doorbell and a door
grew from the top step. It was her door.
A bird chirped loudly. The chirp might have come from the world
she knew now, or from her world then, but wherever the source, the
sound chased away the hand and blurred the dream.
She stirred. The stillness slowly returned, and the hand approached
the doorbell once more. The finger pressed the buzzer, long and
hard, and a harsh ringing filled her ears. The ringing grew louder,
drowning out a single, shrill squawk seeking audience in the background.
The ringing stopped abruptly and the finger retreated from the doorbell.
The door inched inward and a girl appeared through the crack, an
expectant look filling her face long before the ringing of the bell.
The woman’s younger self wore a long blue dress. It had been
her favorite at the age of fifteen. The girl finally pulled the
door wide open to search beyond the hand. Long brown hair surrounding
her head glistened as she nodded toward the unknown.
The soft glow of a Christmas tree shone from the darkness behind
her, illuminating her silver barrette.
The girl smiled at an unseen face as a white envelope appeared
in the hand. As her younger self extended a shy hand to accept the
letter, the old woman’s hand flinched on the pillow. She too,
sought acceptance. The letter clutched firmly by the hand crinkled
as it moved closer to the girl. She smiled, as did the dreamer,
both sensing some inner peace in its message.
The dream visited the woman often, and over the years she had surrendered
all her smiles to the unknown messenger possessing the hand. Always
the dream ended after the envelope turned to a snowy dove. The dove
fled toward the sky as the hand opened, upturned palm empty. She
could only watch helplessly as the dove shrank to a speck of light
high above her. She’d awaken, calling it back.
But the hand kept coming this time. No wings grew to steal the
letter into the heavens. The girl reached out, bending forward over
the threshold, the door opening to reveal the full splendor of the
Christmas tree behind her. The hand obliged, slipping loose as youthful
fingers grasped the middle of the envelope. The hand retracted from
the dream, and she felt a heart-pounding joy that echoed far beyond
her slumber. She grasped the letter gingerly, sensing joy enclosed
within. A lingering warmth from the messenger’s hand extended
life to the paper.
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