The December Lantern

Fat snowflakes sparkled outside the window like a giant snow globe. They glittered around the small mountain cottage and fell in a thick blanket on the house, the driveway, and the mountain above.

In her kitchen, surrounded by the scent of cinnamon and cloves, the main spice in her family’s mulled wine recipe, Emma poured herself a mug and took a sip. It was time.

Emma struck a match against the old-fashioned matchbook, the cover worn by the years. The air smelled briefly of sulfur. She lit the first candle on her family’s lantern, a tradition that has continued for generations. She was the keeper of the lantern now.

Shortly before her grandmother passed, Emma promised she’d continue the tradition. Family lore stated that the lamp needs to keep burning from December 1st to December 31st, and the family will be blessed with a year filled with love.

This year, things felt different. She was the only one left.

She placed the lantern in the window precisely at 5 PM on December 1st, as had been the tradition. Her family never missed a year. She didn’t want to be the one to break. She thought of all the times she stood at the window, her family around her, watching as her grandmother placed the lantern at the window.

The wail of screeching tires and a soft thudding sound came from somewhere outside, breaking her train of thought. She saw a car, covered in snow, buried slightly inside a snow drift. A man worked his way out.

“Are you okay?” She called out, her voice getting buried within the falling snow, then cutting through the howling wind.

A man in his late thirties turned, his skin red from the cold and wind. “Yes, thank you. I didn’t see the drift until it was too late.” She thought she saw him smile - his eyes weary with embarrassment.

She grabbed two shovels from the shed. They worked together to free the car as the storm raged around them, clearing as much as they could from around the car. The snow was a fluffy, fine powder and it was difficult to remove because it kept swirling with the wind and landing back on the car.

They fell into easy conversation while they worked.

His name was Mike, and he had been in the area for a few days to ski with some friends. He veered off course a bit to explore the mountains and take photographs, his hobby. He wanted to capture the scenery during the winter storm, but he stayed a little too long. As the storm worsened, he got lost as he was trying to find his way back to the hotel.

Mike’s eyes flicked to the lantern as they chatted. “That’s a beautiful light. I saw it out of the corner of my eye shortly before I slammed into the snowdrift. It gave me comfort because I knew I would find someone to help me.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, her heart filled with pride. “It’s been in my family for generations. We light it every year at the beginning of December as part of our Christmas celebrations. It’s a symbol of warmth and welcome.”

Mike smiled, the weight of the car shifting slightly from the snow. He walked to the driver’s side, got in, and threw the car in reverse. It started to move.

Relief mixed with disappointed flooded through Emma’s body. She caught Mike’s eye and smiled. She saw a slight glint in his, and it made her feel brave.

“Would you like to come inside and warm up for a bit before you head out? I just made a batch of mulled wine."

Mike hesitated, glancing at the storm around them, then nodded. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

Inside, the cottage felt cozy and warm. Emma poured a small mug of wine for each if them and whispered the blessing her grandmother had taught her under her breath as they gazed at the lantern: May this light guide those who seek comfort and bring warmth to all who gather here. May it bless our family and friends with an abundance of love for the coming year.

As they sipped their hot wine, Mike shared stories of his travels. His laughter filled the quiet spaces that had felt too large since her grandmother’s passing. Emma found herself smiling more easily than she had in months.

When the storm began to ease, Mike rose to leave. “Thank you for your kindness, and for sharing the lantern’s light.”

Emma walked him to the door, the warmth of their shared evening lingering. “Drive safely,” she said, hesitating for a moment before adding, “If you’re still in town tomorrow, stop by. There’s a view from the hill behind the cottage that’s worth photographing.”

Mike’s smile was genuine. “I’ll take you up on that!”