
The Tree Cutting Committee
By Shaina Thompson Morning snow falls heavily, and the once green pastures outside our old farmhouse lie barren and cold under a vast sheet of white. The chill slips through the single-paned windows in ill-fitted wooden frames. Two extra pairs of cold feet climb into my bed and beneath my comforter while we three sisters wait for our mom to kindle a new fire in the wood stove. “How many days till Santa comes, Hailey?”...
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