The Magic Pears

The Magic Pears

Anxious, though she was, Emily’s face refused to show it. A few fine lines were evident only under a magnifying glass.

She’d kept herself busy all day decorating the tree, and now the last string of silver tinsel glistened in the fading sunlight.  It wasn’t until she heard the crunch of tires on the snow packed drive up to her door did she exhale a sigh of relief.

Amos, her golden retriever, bounded down the stairs. With tail wagging he gave a friendly bark when he saw the familiar face of Wally.  The delivery man jumped from his truck with the much awaited gift from Aunt Winnie.

Emily threw open the door before he could touch the knocker.  The man in brown stood smiling at Emily with the radiant skin of a young girl and presented her with a jumbo basket.

“You must really like pears,” he blushed while still holding the basket in his well muscled arms.  He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, but reneged. 

“Yes, I do love these pears,” she smiled and thrust out her arms for the golden pears.

He patted Amos and presented him with a treat.  Amos licked Wally’s face and scurried into the house.

“Well enjoy them,” he said backing away wanting to drink in her beauty.

“Thanks, Wally,” she said and closed the door.

She began immediately by sorting the pears for her first recipe.  She gathered the cream from the refrigerator, and the honey from the pantry, as well as a few other secret ingredients.

She peeled, sliced and diced.  Then she boiled, stirred, and cooled. Emily loved the smell better than cinnamon apple pie.  She was so happy she hummed and sang Christmas carols.

When the process was complete and stars blinked in the indigo sky, she lined up the jars for the fruity concoction.  She scooped the creamy mixture into each jar as Aunt Winnie had taught her and blessed each one.  She loved her aunt, her only relative.  Aunt Winnie’s skin was clear and smooth with nary an aged line or wrinkle at 80 years old.  She looked half her age and just married her third husband.  She was thankful for the magical pear tree she nurtured all her life from a seed she found in her Christmas stocking when she was just a little girl.

And, that is why Emily needed the pears.  Her beauty was only skin deep, but her years were plenty and the man she would marry on Christmas Day was only in his twenties.

She smiled as she dipped her fingers into one of the jars and massaged it onto her face to erase the slightest flaws.  She then shimmied into her red party dress and slipped on the sexy stilettos.  The ones that would kill her feet and cramp her toes. 

Although she looked sweet sixteen, the magic lotion could not cure old bones.