When I was young, I remembered my mother telling me stories of all sorts. I savored each tale like every last drop of water as if I was stranded on a desert. What I didn’t know, however, was that every story told contained a hidden message I never deciphered until it was too late.

It was one night, the day before Christmas, I believe, when I acted out irrationally. I wasn’t sure for what reason, but I didn’t think it mattered because what resided in me that evening wasn’t my mother’s fiery eyes and angry voice – it was the enthralling bedtime story that left me wide awake the night before Christmas. But this time, it was a new one. I haven’t heard it before because, deep down, I knew my mother conjured up this mesmerizing tale.

It was a fairy tale revolving around a princess, with sleek brown hair and a ruby red gown, who lived in a castle deep in the wintery mountains secluded from the world. She had three wishes that came true, and it was a wonder how.

“She behaved like the sweet princess she was, kept a smile on her face, and wished extra hard every night for her three wishes to come true,” my mother said, her eyes twinkling, “and it did.”

I believed every word my mother said. Maybe because it was the night before Christmas, or that I was a naïve little girl, or even the fact I trusted everything that fell out of my mother’s lips. Whatever the reason, I tried to place myself in the princess’ glass slippers and reenact her fairy tale life.

“Mommy, if I’m good, would my wishes come true?” I asked hopefully.

My mother smiled warmly at me. “It did for the princess, didn’t it?”

And it did – for her at least. As for me, it worked out like a charm, but I didn’t realize everything would fall apart as quickly as it came.

Because like all fairy tales, it started with “Once upon a time…”

But that’s where it ended and that’s all it was – just a fairy tale.

***

It was three days before Christmas.

It was a chilly December morning, the breeze nipping at my cold skin and the smell of baked goods drifting through the air. Feather-like snowflakes fluttered around me in a flurry, planting light kisses on my rosy cheeks. The air was crisp, the trees were naked, and the leaves were frosted. The faint sound of festive music rippled through the busy streets of Chicago, filling melodic tunes in my ears. Everyone was sparkling with delight at the thought of Christmas only a few days away.

“It’s a perfect day isn’t it?” His deep voice, usually strong and smooth, was soft and breathless for once.

A smile graced my lips as I watched two children, with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, consumed with joy as they danced across the snow, launching rounds of snowballs at one another. Their laughter resonated across the crowded park, harmonizing with Christmas carolers singing radiantly.

I breathed a sigh, visible puffs of air present in the cold winter. “It is,” I whispered softly.

“Ha! You missed!” the boy suddenly exclaimed, sticking his tongue out playfully.

Determined, the little girl squared her stance, threw back her arm and then fired the snowball straight for his face. Despite the slight aiming miscalculation, the snow still exploded against the boy’s chest, the force tackling him to the ground.

“Yes!” the girl exclaimed, giggling with joy at the result of her throw.

“Don’t be too harsh on your brother!” I had called out, a chuckle escaping right after. I knew they were only messing with each other, like any other siblings. I just couldn’t shake off an awful feeling creeping up on me that day, and it wasn’t the low temperature.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know it then that what I felt wasn’t just a suspicion.

An arm instantly wrapped itself around my shoulder, embracing me tightly as I felt the familiar sense of warmth settling over my shivering form. I snuggled closer and glanced up, catching a pair of bright blue eyes gazing softly at me. I could stare at them forever, it seemed like.

But forever was just a concept of forgotten time. That, was something I didn’t – couldn’t – have, but I desperately wanted. Because, unfortunately, those happy moments were now tragic memories.

Those blue eyes – once bright and loving – were now dull and forgotten. And, who's? I couldn’t tell at the time because, as quickly as my happiness came, they all disappeared forever.

?I wish they could come back to me.

***

It’s one day before Christmas.

I struggle to sit silently on the plastic, uncomfortable white chair. It was deaf silent, not a sound to be heard in the small enclosure. Nothing but white seems to fill the space. The walls are a luminous ivory, along with the limited furnishings. It seems like a perfect place, to get away and forget. And, for a while, it is.

From the beginning, this was how I imagined heaven to be like – all white – in every entity. Heaven was supposed to be a peaceful and timeless paradise where pure angels resided and sinless souls rested. I saw it as a golden gate opening up to new opportunities. Everything was lovely, with nothing and no one to worry about.

This small, white room - one of the numerous - in this hospital appears like my enticing version of heaven. But heaven wasn't a place on Earth. However, the physical characteristics that shined brightly - the white furnishings and the quiet atmosphere - was definitely a sight to behold. But look deeper and this exterior of heaven resembles an interior of hell. Death, disease, mourning, and pain resonates from every corner.

The faint beeping of the heart monitor brings my attention back to reality. I let a deep, shaky sigh escape my aching lungs. “Don't leave,” I croak out with a silent sob.

I grasp tightly onto her cold, frail hands. I could hear her breathing slow down, see her eyes flutter shut, and feel her slowly slipping from reality. A bitter taste settles on my tongue because I knew there was one ending to this distorted fairy tale.

I wish you could just fight and live a little bit longer.

But, like I’ve wished one too many times, I was emptied of all my wishes. I had desired love, marriage, children, and everything that would elicit my happiness. That, I’ve learned wasn’t something you could wish for, and I figured that out a little too late.

Finding happiness was the easy part; keeping it, well, that’s the part I didn’t think needed wishing for, and I couldn’t be more wrong.

Slowly, everything finally began to piece itself together as my mother lay in the stiff hospital bed, taking her last few breaths of life. I realize then and there, like it was meant to happen, that my three wishes had deteriorated along with her and her deceptive fairy tale.

“Was I not good enough, Mommy?”