Snow tufted the arms of the giant cactus as it stood there, alone, a silent sentinel in a field of white, stoically accepting the cold. The white desert blended into the white-gray sky making the day feel colder than it was. Nothing moved in the still air. Only my footprints indicated that a living being had traveled through.
Grampa loved the desert in winter. He loved to walk among the snow-blanketed saguaros, standing there like soldiers guarding his special spot.
Today, I brought Grampa’s ashes here to bury them beneath his favorite old saguaro. Two old friends spending eternity together.
Winner of the Friday Flash Fiction Christmas Competition, 2016