by Carrie Cuinn

The little tree sat out, overhead light reflecting off its shiny, plastic, needles. There were boxes packed full of dishes and clothes, being donated before their departure, but the fake tree didn’t have a destination. Jenny caught her wife looking at it and asked, again, if there was a reason it was still in the living room.

“It was ours,” Sarah said, again. “Everything else is just stuff, but Christmas was ours.” Jenny sat next to her, and put her arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “We can still have holidays in space, baby.” “If we’re assigned to the same ship. If we don’t blow up leaving orbit.”

Christmas Ornament

Gerd Altmann via Public Domain

“That’s the plan, Sarah. We’ll be together.”

“But we won’t have our tree.” Jenny smiled a little, and pulled Sarah into a hug. “I will find you a new tree.”

“You’re going to find me a Christmas tree. In space.”

“If that’s what you need to feel better about going, yes, yes I will.”

They both smiled at that, and Sarah relaxed, leaning in toward Jenny.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we? Leaving everything behind.”

“Everything but each other.”

“Goodbye, Christmas tree,” Sarah said. “Take care of the Earth for us while we’re gone.”


Carrie CuinnCarrie Cuinn is an author, editor, college student, and geek. In her spare time she works toward a degree in Creative Writing, listens to music, watches indie films, cooks everything, reads voraciously, and sometimes gets enough sleep. Find her online at @CarrieCuinn or at http://carriecuinn.com.