Word count: 1490

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          It's the first evening of Christmas break, a blanket of snow already lay on the ground, I just came home from the school I work at, when I found the Christmas card.

       Normally, a Christmas card at this time of year wouldn't be very memorable, but this one seemed out of place. It wasn't a family photo shoot or a generic card bought in bulk, it was older and simpler.

       It was a horizontal card with red cursive letters saying "Seasons Greetings" and the soldier cartoon on the front and on top in black letters it said "SECOND ARMED DIVISION."

      Curious I flipped it over, it was divided like a postcard would be divided with the address and name on one side and a handwritten message on the other. My eyes drifted to the message side and it read:

Dec. 12th 1970

My dearest,                                               
My tour here ends in a few days then I'll be home. I can't wait to see you again and to see our child for the first time. Though I was sad to leave you I'm glad I joined up before the draft was called, because now I'll be home for our child's first Christmas. I wish you would have told me if our child is is a boy or a girl, but suspense has been a pleasant one unlike the ones I feel here, I guess I'll find out soon enough. I can't wait to see you two. Hopefully the next time we converse it will be with me following this card through the door.
Love,
H.B.

      Fifty years ago. Wow this card took a long time to be delivered. It's such a happy message too, a husband returning from war. I should make sure the right person gets this. My eyes finally drift over to the address side.

Elaine  Brewer

       Then my address. Who ever she is/was she must have lived here in the 70's. It can't be that hard to find her and I know just the place to start, my landlords, Mr. and Mrs. Jamison.

        Mr. And Mrs. Jamison were a sweet older couple who, in the 2 years I've lived here, treated me more like a daughter than a tenet. The house had apparently belonged to Mrs Jamison's mother, who after the death of her husband decided to move to a retirement village and instead of selling her home she gave it to her daughter who in turn decided to lease it out for a cheap price. So when I got a job at the local school and wanted a place with a shorter commute I moved in to this small town and this was the only place for rent, and dispite it being too big for my single self it was cheap and I didn't want to buy one of the bigger houses for sale in the area; this house became home.

          I wasn't sure how long Mrs. Jamison's mother had lived in this house, but with any luck either Mrs. Jamison or her mom would know who lived here in 1970.

         Thankfully, I know Mrs. Jamison will be here tomorrow, she always comes on the third Saturday of the month to collect rent and have lunch with me, I'll ask her about the Christmas card then. 

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          Mrs. Jamison arrived at the time she normally does, 12:30 just in time for lunch.

           "Mrs. Jamison! Come in, come in." I quickly usher her inside.

            As usual she quickly comes inside and hangs up her coat, heading towards the table, and sitting down.

           "So, what are we having today, Lizzie," she smiles.

           "Well since it's so cold out, I made some hot beef stew to warm us up, and hot cocoa with marshmallows and candy cane stirrers since its Christmas time." I say putting the soup in two bowls and sitting at the table.

          We continue to eat and chat before I give her the rent money and a Christmas present I got her. Then I bring up the Christmas card.

          "There's something else I wanted to show you yesterday this Christmas card came in the mail. It's addressed to an Elaine Brewer and it's dated for 1970. It has such a hopeful message of a husband coming home from war I figured whoever this was meant for should get it even if it's 50 years too late," I say handing her the card.

          "Hmmm. That's right after I was born. I think me and my mom lived here when I was a baby but her name is not Elaine, it's Sarah, and I don't know anyone with last name Brewer. Maybe my mom had a roommate during the Vietnam War. You know I'm actually going to go visit her today do you want to come with me and ask her about this; I've spoken so much about you she practically considers you a granddaughter." She offers while getting up and walking to the door.

           "Sure as long as I'm not imposing on you," I say grabbing the card again off the table where she had left it.

           "Nonsense dear, she's actually been wanting to meet you. Let's go for a ride in my car since we're going to the same place and this house is on my way home," she says in her kind way.

           We grab our coats and head out, along the ride we make idle chit-chat and after a little while we arrive at the retirement village. We quickly make our way into her mother's house.

            "Hi, Mom! This is the girl who's renting out your house, Lizzie," Mrs. Jamison introduces me.

             "Oh hello dear, I've heard so much about you, what brings you here today?" Mrs. Jamison's mom greets.

              "Well, yesterday this was delivered to your old house and I was wondering if you could help me find the rightful recipient," I say handing her the Christmas card.

               As she takes it in her hands and reads the card her eyes start to well up with tears and their hand comes to her chest.

           "I-I can't believe it after all this time," she mumbles tearfully.

            "Mom, what's wrong?" Mrs. Jamison asked.

             "I just can't believe I'm holding this Christmas card," her mother responded.

              Mrs. Jamison and I share a confused look before we both look towards her mother again. Seeing our confusing her mother continues.

             "This card was meant for me. Jessica, do you remember when you were little and I told you your father was actually your stepfather and that your biological father had died in Vietnam serving this country well this card is from him, and it's dated the day before he died," she explained to her daughter.

            "Mom, I don't understand this card is addressed to Elaine and your name is Sarah," Mrs. Jamison asked.

            "Let me tell you girls a story. When I was young I was in love with a man named Howard Brewer. We were high school sweethearts; he called me by my middle name, Elaine, because wanted call me something different than everyone else. We got married and bought that little house you live in, Lizzie. The war was raging and men were dying left and right, Howard seemed to know a draft is coming up, so he enlisted months before the draft. The night before he left we had a small send off party just the two of us; a few months later, when he was deployed already, I found out I was pregnant with you, Jessica. soon you were born and he was still had a few months left of his tour so we decided keep your gender a surprise, so he would have something to look forward to, a happy surprise, when he came home. I remembered the day the two uniformed soldiers came knocking on the door it was December 15th 1970. They told me on the 13th Howard was killed in action. I remember that day because the 15th was when he was supposed to be finished with his tour. So there I was a young widow with a baby. After a little while, I met Steve and we were married before your 2nd birthday, Jessica, and he raised you as his own, and even after I told you, you would never really questioned and wanted to know about your biological father, so he can never came up. I had never really got a chance to say goodbye to him or have any closure, and this Christmas cards brings me a sense of closure. This is how I want to remember him; happy to come home. So thank you, Lizzie, for bringing this to me."

         We were all getting misty-eyed by the end of the story. The rest of the afternoon was filled with learning more about Howard. I was so happy to be a part of this moment them and this all happened because of that Christmas card.