The fire crackles low. Garlands shimmer above the mantel. A bare pine tree waits in the corner, hungry for its first ornament.
Nora yanks the lid off the old wooden box. Clink, clink, CLONK! Glass ornaments tumble across the rug — and one bounces right off her nose.
Grandma sets down her string of red lights. "One at a time, love," she says, steadying Nora's wiggly fingers around a crooked star.
Up goes the tin bell. Up goes the thin snowflake that bends between her fingers. Nora reaches for the next one, careful and slow.
At the very bottom of the box, her fingers close around something cold and round. Two tiny glass birds, perched on a painted branch.
"What are these?" Nora holds them up, tilting her head. Grandma's eyes go soft and far away.
Grandma holds the birds up to the bricks. The fire turns them orange, almost like they're hopping. "A friend gave them to us years ago."
"Two birds, so neither one's lonely," Grandma says, her voice low. She nods at the bare pine tree in the corner, patient and waiting.
Grandma lifts Nora to the highest twig. Nora hooks the birds on. Sways — sways — WHOOPS! She grips the branch tight until everything stills.
Nora slides down and pats the top of the tree, just once, the way you pat a sleeping dog. "Goodnight, little birds," she whispers.