Adelaide B. Shaw
Our first Christmas in Switzerland is in a cramped, two-room furnished apartment, my husband and I and three children. We are newly arrived from Los Angeles.
The apartment is on the fourth floor in a building with a broken elevator. A promise from the concierge that it will be repaired toute suite does not come about during the two months we are there.
swirling in a paper-weight
the high window view
On Christmas Eve, after dinner in a restaurant, we climb the three flights of stairs, pour eggnog and open presents. The children fall asleep in their cots, and my husband and I refill our glasses, adding a dram of spirits. He reads and I write.
I search the sky
for a bright star