Mila and the Missing Baby Jesuses
By Sarah Meade
Word Count: 250
When we give Grandma the Nativity, her eyes shine.
I wish she’d smile, instead of crying. Grandpa always gave her a Nativity set.
But this is our first Christmas without Grandpa.
Evan and I place the pieces.
“Ready to bake cookies?” asks Mom.
I nod. Evan stays with Grandma.
I mix. Mom rolls out dough. I grab cookie cutters.
“Mila?” calls Grandma.
I go see.
“Something’s missing,” Grandma murmurs. Her hands squeeze together.
“Show me, Grandma.” I take her hand.
“Look.” She points at the new Nativity.
It’s beautiful. The shepherds, three wise men, Joseph, Mary, and of course– wait.
“Where’s Baby Jesus?” I ask.
Grandma shakes her head. A tear runs down her cheek. My heart pinches.
That’s when I notice the other sets are missing something, too.
“Have you seen the baby Jesuses?”
“No,” Mom says.
It must have been my brother.
“Evan!” I call down the hall.
He’s kneeling by Grandma’s bed, surrounded by baby Jesuses, and he’s…
“Evan?” I say.
He sniffles. “Grandma forgot her Nativity stories. And our snowman and Grandpa, and…”
I kneel down and take his hand.
We pray together.
“Maybe we can help Grandma remember,” I say.
We place all the baby Jesuses back in their mangers.
I find the photo album.
Grandma opens it. I talk about last Christmas and how Grandpa used up all the sprinkles on his Christmas cookies. Evan shares the snowman story.
“He always gave me a new Nativity set,” whispers Grandma.
And she smiles.
This story was inspired by my children taking the Baby Jesus from our Nativity sets, as well as my many happy holiday memories of my grandparents, whom I miss dearly.
Thank you for reading!