The Christmas wish

**The Christmas Wish** Snow fell delicately over the humble community of Evergreen, covering the roofs and roads in a shining white sheet. Eight-year-old Clara squeezed her nose against the cold window, looking out at the gleaming lights adorning her neighbours' homes. It was Christmas Eve, and the air hummed with energy. Yet, in Clara's heart, there was a minuscule hurt. This year was unique. Her father, a fireman, was away working, and it would be the primary Christmas without him at home. Clara had thought of her Christmas wish to St Nick weeks prior: *"Please bring Daddy home for Christmas."* Her mom, attempting to keep the occasion soul alive, had set up the tree and prepared Clara's #1 treats. However, as they hung the last trimming - a wooden star with "Our Loved ones" cut into it - Clara couldn't stop the tear that descended her cheek. "Try not to be miserable, darling," her mother expressed, bowing next to her. "Daddy loves you so much, and he'll think about us." Clara gestured, yet her chest felt weighty. That evening, as she lay in bed, she murmured to the roof, "St Nick, assuming you're genuine, kindly bring Daddy home." Promptly the following morning, Clara woke to the sound of sledge chimes — or if nothing else, she figured she did. Scouring her eyes, she hurried to the window. There was no sledge, simply a new layer of snow and the brilliant sparkle of sunrise. On the first floor, the front room was changed. Gifts of every kind imaginable sat under the tree, the aroma of cinnamon drifted from the kitchen, and the chimney popped heartily. Yet, Clara's heart sank when she didn't see her father. "Good day, sleepyhead!" her mother welcomed her, holding a cup of hot chocolate finished off with whipped cream. "Happy holidays!" "Happy holidays," Clara said delicately, attempting to marshal a grin. As they started opening up presents, the doorbell rang. Clara livened up, her heart hustling. Might it at some point be? Her mother made her way to uncover their neighbour, Mr Thompson, holding a plate of treats. "Happy holidays!" he shouted, venturing inside. Clara's shoulders drooped. She enjoyed Mr. Thompson, yet he wasn't who she was expecting. Sometime thereafter, Clara and her mother packaged up and went to the town square for the yearly Christmas march. Youngsters snickered as they pursued one another, families shared warm cups of cocoa, and an ensemble sang ditties close to the enormous Christmas tree in the middle. Be that as it may, Clara couldn't shake her bitterness. Indeed, even as St Nick rode through the procession on his sledge, waving and tossing sweets sticks, she felt an ache of dissatisfaction. Coming back, Clara spotted something strange close to the edge of the recreation area: a little, messy canine shuddering under a seat. "Mother, look!" she shouted, running over. The canine, a small brown-and-white terrier, gazed upward with miserable eyes. Clara's mother faltered. "Gracious, darling, we can't simply take somebody's canine — " "He doesn't have a choker," Clara intruded, tenderly scooping the canine into her arms. The little animal licked her face appreciatively, and Clara laughed interestingly that day. "Well," her mother said, grinning, "I guess he can remain with us until we view him as his proprietor." Clara named the canine Snowball and spent the remainder of the early evening time playing with him. Briefly, the weight in her heart lifted, and their home felt somewhat more brilliant. That night, as the stars sparkled above, Clara sat by the chimney with Snowball nestled into her lap. Her mother read her a Christmas story, yet Clara's considerations held floating to her father. She wanted to see Snowball and sit with them by the fire. Out of nowhere, there was a sound — a weak jingling of chimes, trailed by a delicate thump at the entryway. Clara's mother looked bewildered. "Who might that at some point be at this hour?" Clara hopped up, her heart beating. She made the way to find… "Daddy!" she cried, hurling herself entirely into his arms. Her father, wearing his fireman uniform, embraced her firmly. "Happy holidays, Clara," he said, his voice brimming with warmth. "I got exceptional authorization to return home for the evening." Tears spilt down Clara's face as she stuck to him. "I missed you to such an extent!" "I missed you as well, my little star," he said, kissing the highest point of her head. That evening, the Carter family sat together by the tree, sharing stories and giggling. Snowball yelped energetically as Clara's father threw him a piece of turkey, and Clara felt her heart load up with euphoria. As she prepared for bed, her father wrapped her up, very much like he used to. "Did you make a Christmas wish this year?" he inquired. Clara gestured. "I wanted for you to get back home." Her father grinned, his eyes gleaming like the stars. "Indeed, it seems as though St Nick came through." Clara radiated. "This is the best Christmas of all time." What's more, as she floated off to rest, she realized she would constantly recall the enchantment of this Christmas — the Christmas her desire worked out as expected.