Aunt June’s Magical House.

Halo would never forget the winter she spent with Aunt June. She was ten years old, bundled in a too-big coat that swallowed her whole, standing on Aunt June’s doorstep while her parents waved goodbye from the car. Aunt June’s house sat at the edge of the woods, tucked away like a secret no one was meant to find.

Aunt June opened the door with a smile that could melt snow, her curly gray hair tucked under a red knit hat. “There’s my favorite niece!” she said, pulling Halo into a hug. Her house smelled like cinnamon and pine, the kind of scent that made you feel like you’ve stepped straight into a holiday card.

“Now, let’s get you warmed up,” Aunt June said, helping Halo out of her oversized coat. She draped it over a chair and handed her a steaming cup of cocoa topped with a swirl of whipped cream. “I made it just the way you like it,” she added, winking. Halo took a sip, the warmth spreading through her fingers and into her chest.

That first evening passed in a cozy blur. After a dinner of Aunt June’s famous chicken pot pie, the two of them sat by the fireplace, chatting about everything and nothing. As the fire crackled low, Aunt June announced, “It’s tradition. First snow of the season, we have to make wishes.”

“Wishes?” Halo asked, curious.

She nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Yep. But not just any kind. Snow wishes. They’re special. Come on, grab your boots.”

Before Halo knew it, they were trudging out into the snowy backyard, their breath puffing into clouds. The world was so quiet she could hear the snow crunching under their feet. Aunt June handed Halo a mason jar with a tiny candle inside.

“Here’s how it works,” Aunt June explained, kneeling in the snow to strike a match. The candle’s flame flickered to life, casting a warm glow on her face. “Think of something you really, really want—not a toy or candy, but something your heart wants. Then we light the candle, whisper our wishes to the snow, and let the flame carry them up to the stars.”

Halo stared at the jar, unsure. “Does it work?”

Aunt June smiled. “Only if you believe it does.”

Halo closed her eyes, the cold nipping at her cheeks, and thought hard. Her parents had been so busy lately, rushing off to work or glued to their phones. What she wanted more than anything was for them to sit together again, like they used to—playing board games, laughing until their stomach hurt.

When she opened her eyes, Aunt June had already lit her candle. “Ready?” she asked. Halo nodded. They whispered their wishes into the frosty air, their voices soft as the snowflakes drifting around them.

Later that night, Aunt June and Halo decorated her tree. Aunt June brought out old boxes filled with ornaments—Halo helped unpack them, carefully unwrapping them from tissue paper. Some were handmade, others a little worn but loved. Aunt June told stories about each one—the paper snowflake Halo’s mom had made when she was a kid, the wooden reindeer that had once hung on Aunt June’s tree as a little girl.

Here,” Aunt June said, handing Halo the star. “The most important part.”

Halo’s face lit up as she climbed onto a stepstool to place the star at the top of the tree. When they finished, Aunt June turned off all the lights in the house, leaving just the glow of the tree. The room felt magical, bathed in the soft twinkle of colored lights.

“Wait right here,” Aunt June said, disappearing into the kitchen. She returned with two mugs of hot Westsoy Mint Chocolate. The peppermint-scented steam curled into the air as they settled onto the couch, sipping their drinks in comfortable silence.

As the night wore on, Aunt June pulled out an old deck of cards. “Have you ever played Rummy?” she asked.

“No,” Halo said, shaking her head.

“Well, you’re about to learn,” Aunt June replied with a grin. They sat by the fireplace, the cards spread out between them. Aunt June taught her the rules, cheering when Halo won her first hand. “This is your reminder,” Aunt June said, “that magic doesn’t always look like sparkles and spells. Sometimes, it’s just two people playing cards by a fire.”

When Halo’s parents picked her up two days later, something felt different. Her mom turned to her dad and said, “We should have a family game night this weekend. It’s been too long.”

Halo glanced out the car window at the snow-covered trees, her lips curving into a smile. Aunt June had been right—snow wishes really did work.

Author’s Note ;

May you always have LOVE to share,

HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care...

And may you always believe in the magic of Christmas!