Words failed me as I stared at the body. It was my usual Sunday trip up to Yukon trail. I had changed the date to Monday since Christmas vacation allowed me to take my kids. Because of social distancing, the week day seemed a good choice.

It was so cold it seemed the still body was just laying there, resting, instead of instantly being afraid of her. I hustled the kids to sit away, next to a tree. I was tempted to say everything would be all right, but I’m sure they would know better.

It was late afternoon before we heard the FBI helicopter fly in to do a forensics search. The kids and I will forever remember that Christmas tragedy.


7 thoughts on “Tragedy

  1. The sort of thing that will color all their future Christmas memories. Perhaps, when older, they may get some mileage out of relating the experience to their friends, exaggerating just a bit.
    Thankfully, it’s fiction! It’s funny how so many readers will assume poems are autobiographical, when usually mine aren’t. This week’s is biographical though.

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.