Auld Lang Syne

(Editor's Note: This story is a sequel to Christ Child's Lullaby)

A short story by Mary M. Isaacs.

“All beautiful the march of days/As seasons come and go.
The hand that shaped the rose has wrought/The crystal of the snow,
Has sent the hoary frost of heav’n/The flowing waters sealed,
And laid a silent loveliness/On hill and wood and field…


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Rose peered through the small window in the heavy wooden door of the old church. No taxi yet, just gently falling flakes of snow in the late afternoon light; she was glad the snow had held off until after the service was over. It would be a light snowfall, though, like the recent ones, and she could have walked to the church service; it was only a few long blocks, after all, and there was no ice. But Mrs. Evans had insisted that she take a taxi there and back, and Rose had agreed in order to give her neighbor peace of mind. Not like last year, after that memorable Advent service—and she smiled to herself as the memory flooded back. Joe had walked her home that evening, through the fallen snow. But Joe wasn’t here today to hold out his elbow for her arm to guide her steps home. She missed him, and wished he was there.…



Mary M. Isaacs — copyright, 2020
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 To read more, "Auld Lang Syne" is in the Hidden in Plain Sight and Holiday Stories/ collections.