Christmas Spirit
Christmas has always been my sister’s favorite time of year. She loves the music, the lights, and the presents. It’s the only time in her life that she can actually be a kid. She doesn’t have to think about hospital beds and doctors—or her failing heart.
Prim has always been optimistic, despite the fact that she’s spent a better part of her twelve years on Earth in a hospital. And now I’m all she has left. I’m the one who is responsible for her.
My dad died right after Prim was born, which caused my mother to spiral out of control. You would think when Prim got sick that she would have managed to sober up, but I guess I gave her way too much credit.
Prim has always had the biggest heart, but it definitely isn’t the strongest. She was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy right after her fifth birthday. Her condition was manageable in the beginning, but it’s clear we’re reaching the end. There’s only one option left for my sister, and that’s a new heart. You hear about children on transplant lists, waiting and wondering if your child will be next. Well, it’s agonizing. Prim has been on the donor’s list for the past six months. The longer we wait, the worse she gets.
I don’t believe in miracles—or the spirit of Christmas—but maybe there’s a little magic still left in this fucked up world.
Read on AO3 Thank you to @papofglencoe for editing and pushing me to write after years of taking a break.
