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Miss Martha's Christmas
Miss Martha's Christmas
Miss Martha's Christmas
Ebook46 pages43 minutes

Miss Martha's Christmas

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Miss Martha's Christmas was written as a Christmas gift to the author's grown daughters. Through a unique snowball globe that changes scenes daily, Miss Martha, a handicapped older woman, finds delight in experiencing simple traditions and memories of Christmas of one family. In the process of sharing her gift, Miss Martha's circle of daily visitors and friends expands to include most of the community and results in her meeting the doctor who can change her life.
 

LanguageEnglish
PublisherTed Eldridge
Release dateJul 10, 2019
ISBN9781393877912
Miss Martha's Christmas
Author

Ted Eldridge

Ted Eldridge is a career-long educator, having served as a 6th grade teacher for twelve years, elementary principal for seventeen, university instructor for six, and volunteer teacher in Quito, Ecuador, for two school years. He resides in his home, the Eagle's Nest, high among the live oaks on a little island in Savannah, Georgia.

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    Book preview

    Miss Martha's Christmas - Ted Eldridge

    Miss Martha's Christmas

    Ted Eldridge

    Published by Ted Eldridge, 2019.

    This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

    MISS MARTHA'S CHRISTMAS

    First edition. July 10, 2019.

    Copyright © 2019 Ted Eldridge.

    ISBN: 978-1393877912

    Written by Ted Eldridge.

    Table of Contents

    Title Page

    Copyright Page

    Dedication

    Miss Martha’s Christmas | by Ted Eldridge | Christmas 2013

    For Amanda and Kate

    Miss Martha’s Christmas

    by Ted Eldridge 

    Christmas 2013

    DING. DONG.

    Martha closed the book she held in her hands, set it on the table beside her chair, lifted her head, and removed her reading glasses.

    Now, who could that be? she asked out loud. Molly, her wheat-colored terrier nestled at her feet thumped her tail on the carpet.

    Carefully bracing herself on the arms of the overstuffed chair, Martha stood and reached for the cane she had set against the table. Although a little stiff, she pulled herself up and began the walk to the door. We’re not expecting anyone, Molly. This will be a surprise visitor.

    A swoosh of cool air blew in the door when she opened it. And, there between the screen door and the inside door was the morning paper, as usual; but, there was no one there. With her good foot, Martha kicked the newspaper inside the vestibule. Well, now, that’s strange, she said, as she looked out over the yard. Moving away from the curb was a familiar white truck with red and white stripes painted along its sides. U.S. Postal Service was clearly visible on its side panel.

    Martha looked down on her little porch. There sat a brown cardboard box with an address label and the word FRAGILE written in large red letters on top.

    My, my, Martha said. Someone has sent me a package. I didn’t order anything. It isn’t my birthday. What could it be?

    She leaned her cane against the wall, opened the screen door, and gently bent down to pick up the box. It took both hands. And, it was heavier than Martha had expected. She had to move to the side of the door to steady herself to be able to lift the box and keep her balance. A fresh gust of autumn chill blew leaves into the hall. November had come mighty early this year, Martha thought. She shivered as she reached for her cane with one hand and held the package tightly to her with the other. Once upright and on solid footing again, she took a step back, let the screen door close, and pushed the inside door shut with the side of her cane.

    There! she said. Molly, we have a surprise to open. Molly had stood up and stretched, walked over to Martha and cocked her head. She was sniffing the air around the box Martha held well up and out of Molly’s reach. Let’s see what it is, shall we? Martha asked. Molly’s tail swished back and forth. She was as excited as Martha.

    Accustomed to taking her time to cross a room while carrying something and steadying herself with her cane, Martha stepped toward the coffee table in front of the old sofa in front of the bay window. She set the package in the center of the low, oval table and moved around it to sit on the couch. Molly jumped up beside her and snuggled close to her leg, watching the box intently.

    Martha’s fingers were not as nimble as they used to be. The old-fashioned letter

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