“Walking by Christmas,” she’d countered, convinced they were wrong. Now, her eyes were the only moving part of her body.
“Eyes are a road map to the soul,” her husband whispered as he kissed them, reminding Selma of her mother’s fairy-sparkle kisses.
“Remember, Santa comes tonight, last chance to dream big.”
Her wishes always came true back then, and now?
All night, Selma passionately painted Santa’s skies with her vision: Selma walking.
At 11:59 Selma leaned out her open window.
“I love you Santa!”