Still a boy, he set out to the Haymarket Square candy store before dinner at Grandma’s.
Told to be there no later than 6 o’clock, he thought a half-hour would be enough time.
Ready to go, he put on his cap and gloves and set out to buy his favorite: candy sticks.
Earning 40 cents from his chores, he took along his proceeds in his back pocket.
Every step, it got colder and colder—the wind blowing harder and harsher.
Two minutes in, and what was the soft swirl of snow now fell down faster.
Shivering, he pulled his cap down low, and flipped up the neck of his coat.
Over past the Office and The Falk Co., snow blanketed the granite street.
Forward, he trenched through the mounds—unable to lift his feet.
Oh how he wished he had went straight to Grandma's house.
Light on the far off horizon was fading fast.
Dazed from the blizzard, he couldn't see in front of him.
Mountains of snow stacked the streets and lined the buildings.
In the freezing cold, he no longer felt his legs—numb from the pain.
Life around the town spun around him and he fell—flat on his back.
Way past the General Store, he gave up—he wouldn’t make it to Grandma’s.
Away in the distance, a small, faint light appeared—approaching him slowly.
Until the light reached him and screamed his name, he thought he was forgotten.
Karl, let’s go eat,” said the light—his angry brother picking him up out of the snow.
Even just 100 feet away stood Grandma’s house—the smell of turkey escaped the windows.
Everyone sat around Grandma’s table and, with Karl joined, finished their Christmas Dinner.