Mallard Lane was on fire with multiple trees lining up down the streets. Their leaves burned of yellow, orange, and red coloring. As the days went on the ground caught the fire. It was the most beautiful place to die in and the most beautiful place to start a life in. On Mallard Lane there were two house that sat next to each other like best friends in preschool. One was a creamish, that used to be white, house. It had a wonderful garden in the front that grew abundantly but the house was almost always dark. No one ever quite knew who tended this beautiful garden, all they saw was a dim blue light from the tv that peeked out of the upstairs bedroom window at night. Next to it was a brick house that was settled into the Earth for awhile now. It was much too silent for much too long.

One morning on Mallard Lane, there was an unusual noise. A truck was backing into the empty brick house driveway. Boxes beyond boxes were gently laid on the lawn. For a moment the fire on the floor was put out, the boxes covered the whole surface. Then another car parked on the street. Five people walked out. One about six foot two, very muscular man, carrying a box marked fragile into the house. Another, five foot six, holding the smallest of them, probably eight pounds. Then the other two raced out. They ran around all the boxes and played tag. Before you knew it they were throwing bubble wrap everywhere trying to find their baseball and bat. This family had brought a new beauty to Mallard, their laughter and smiles could make even the rainiest of days a little brighter.

The next morning at the white house there was a knock on the door. The family of five stood there waiting to perform their rehearsed introduction. A gray haired, hunched over, woman answered the door slowly. “Hello, can I help you?” She said with a tired look in her eyes.
“Well good morning! We wanted to stop by and say hello to our new neighbor. My name is Brian Paulsen, this is my wife Tracy, these are our kids Kyle, Dillon, and our baby girl Brooke. We noticed your lovely garden, is it a hobby of yours?”
“Morning, I am Carol Arco. I would love to chat but I have housework to do. Have a nice day.” The door closed quickly. Brian and Tracy looked at each other with wide eyes. They turned around and continued back to their new home.
The trees had become bare and leaves piled up and served as bases in front of the Paulsen’s house. Kyle and Dillon played ball together. The pitch was coming at Kyle fast, swing and a miss. Three strikes, he’s out. Dillon is up to bat. He stand at home plate with the posture of a professional. He hits the bat on the ground two times, winds up for the pitch, and swings. The ball goes flying across the whole yard and lands right in the middle of Mrs. Arco’s garden. Carol just about ran out of her house to her garden, grabbed the ball and took it inside with her. Dillon and Kyle were confused and a bit scared. They ran inside to tell their mom. She made them apologize to Mrs. Arco. When they knocked on the door she did not answer.
Mrs. Arco had lived in her house for over thirty years now. The only times she would come outside was in the very early mornings right as the sun was rising and she would tend to her garden. No one ever saw her go shopping or go for evening walks. The rest of the day Carol would sit inside arranging flowers in her home and cleaning up. Even the clean rooms got cleaned, again. Then when darkness fell she went up to her room and laid in her big bed looking across at the bedside table. On top was a small framed picture of her, her husband, her two sons, and her daughter.
It was dark and the houses settled in for the night. It was a long day for both houses. The stars were abnormally bright and the moon shined right on to Brooke through her bedroom window. The rustle of papers could wake her up. She squinted her eyes and was unable to find rest. She let out a small cry that turned into a lions roar. Soon after the whole house was awake. The blender was going, trying to make baby formula. The boys were asking for something to drink. Brian and Tracy raced around trying to calm everyone down. To keep the chaos going the phone rang. “Hello?” Brian answered the phone with one hand while trying to grab a cup out of the cupboard with another.
“Some people are trying to sleep. Please keep it down.” Carol Arco had to call and pay her two cents.
“We are so sorry. Please have a great night sleep.” Brian apologetically answered back.
Brian hung up the phone, grabbed some cups, and put Kyle and Dillon back in their beds. Tracy was just finishing up with Brooke. Brooke slowly laid her arms down and her eyes rolled to back of her head again. The house was tired and tried for the second time that night to settle down.
The next morning the smell of turkey, sweet potatoes, and stuffing filled the air. Mallard Lane filled up with cars and loads of side dishes. Everyone was walking into the big brick house. The house began its feast as the people flooded inside. The smiles and the laughter could be heard from miles away and it attracted more people to join. The Paulsens had so much to be thankful for this year. A new house, a new baby girl, two amazing sons, and loving friends and family. The only person within a mile radius missing was Carol. Instead of her a man dressed in uniform showed up to the door. He flashed his badge and demanded silence. That was Carol’s gift to them.
A few days later the floor outside had a white blanket to keep it warm. The house windows had frosted edges and it shivered in the morning. Carol’s garden was no where in sight. The loud banging on a hammer had startled the peace. Carol was woken up. She went outside to see Brian decorating his house.
“Good morning Mrs. Arco! It’s great to see you again.”
“What do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know that there are people trying to get work done in their homes?” Carol said as she made her way through her yard and stepping over the borderline into theirs.
“I’m getting ready for Christmas Mrs. Arco. Surely you understand that. I do not mean to disturb you or anyone else. How was your Thanksgiving? Did you have family over?”
“I prefer to spend the holidays alone. I must go back inside.” Mrs. Arco choked back tears. No one had ever seen a soft side to Carol. No one knew that she even had the strength to cry. However, Brian did. Brian knew deep down what was wrong. He had seen it before.
“Would you like to join us on Christmas Day for dinner and celebration Mrs. Arco? My family would love to have you!” Brian could have gotten down on his hands and knees.
Mrs. Arco continued inside. From that day on no one saw even a trace of Mrs. Arco. She was the master at hide-n-go seek. Brian thought about her everyday. He tried to understand her and why she would get mad so easily at his family. When Kyle and Dillon hit the ball into her garden, when Brooke cried all night, when they were having a Thanksgiving party, and when he was hanging up decorations. In an insight moment he understood. It all clicked. She must have had two sons that she loved dearly. Kyle and Dillon reminded her of them and that made her wistful. Brooke was so young and it’s not her fault that she woke up. Carol must have had a baby girl. She probably had a family that celebrated the holidays together. When she saw ours she must have been bitter towards us. Carol most likely had a strong loving husband that happily put up her Christmas decorations for her and that is why she couldn't stand to watch Brian put them up.
A couple weeks later there was a knock on the door of the old, white house. The Paulsen family stood outside with huge smiles and plates of food big enough to feed the whole state. Carol, to their surprise, answered the door slowly. She opened it wide enough to let them inside. The house was a garden itself. Flowers filled every corner of the room. The smell was better than the food entering the house. On the walls were pictures; one with two young men in marine uniforms, another of a small baby girl that was in a hospital bed, and another of a strong man holding Carol in his arms. Each one of the Paulsens looked at the pictures almost as if it were a mirror.