Kristine E. Brickey

*Today in our Mid-Michigan Word Gatherers meeting, one of the prompts was to rewrite a fairy tale, setting it in 2020. This version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is authored by my very talented daughter, Katie. She was kind enough to let me share. I hope you enjoy it as much as we did this morning! Seven little men mourned for Snow White.  There was no witch’s apple,  she never took a bite. Covid struck the princess, put her in a snooze,  but since they were all quarantined,  the prince never got the news. A messenger did finally spread word,  but in today’s day and age,  no one speaks the language of the birds. So in the woods Snow White waits, in her coffin full of grace,  until the day comes at last,  when we put Covid in the past.

I’m not a Scrooge, or the Grinch, well, maybe I am. It isn’t that I don’t like the holidays, well, maybe it is.               I used to love Thanksgiving. Food. The signaling of only a few remaining weeks to survive before Christmas break, always needed to refuel before leaping into the new year and the long stretch through winter until spring.              Decorating for Christmas used to be my jam. Craft shows loved to see me coming, leaving with bags stuffed with new purchases, painted Santa and reindeer sets, ornaments, gifts for myself and for others.              But things are different since…well, since. I never know what to expect, what my heart will want in order to survive. Survive. It seems like a season of survival now.              Last year I met Christmas in overdrive. Hallmark movies playing almost 24/7. Fat tree. Lights upon the mantel. Baking until my freezer was full and my countertops were covered with frosted, sugar sprinkled delights.              This year, thou