Niall waited patiently for the day to end. He lived on his fifteen acre lot for over fifty years and this was the first Christmas snow didn’t blanket the land.

“Here dad this is for you,” Robert, his youngest son, said holding a present out for Niall.

The old man took it with a smile and pretended to be happy. He received the same pair of key finders the year before. 

Niall took a long sip of his mulled wine and sat back to take in his family. Robert, with his wife and newborn son. Sarah, the middle child, with her boyfriend. They lived out in California but always made sure to spend a week in December back home. Finally, Trevor, his oldest, with his clan of five kids and wife. The crowded farmhouse living room was warmed by more than just the wood fireplace.

Niall sucked in the fuzzy scene and a warm smile hung on his face. “Dad, where are you going?” Sarah asked, he had started to rise from his chair.

“Oh, just out to feed the chickens, just because it’s Christmas doesn’t mean they don’t have to eat.”

“Can I come grandpa?” Trevor’s youngest asked.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Niall reassured his grandson with a hair ruffle. Niall knocked back the last of his wine and then carefully set it on the table. The family went back to celebrating and Niall quickly slipped out of the room.

He didn’t bother with a jacket and went straight outside. He let out a long yawn as he crossed the yard to the chicken house. His dog, a Blue Heeler named Spots, pattered over to greet Niall.

“Good boy,” he said, stroking Spots’ coarse straight hair. 

Niall hefted up the feed bag and poured a healthy serving through the wall opening that led to the chickens’ trough within. He heard the scratch of chicken feet as they all scampered to the trough. Niall let out another long yawn as he set the feed bag down, it took him a minute to catch his breath.

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“Not yet,” he muttered. 

Spot looked at him and whimpered.

“It’s alright boy,” Niall told his old friend. “Come on,” he called with a pat on his leg as he turned toward the trees. Spot followed closely as they crossed the property. They passed Niall’s tool shed, neat and tightly locked up. Then the half acre plot Niall set aside for his garden, now a sea of radish tops working as a cover crop. They slowed as they passed the little stables. Niall’s wife, Patty, spent her summer’s as a kid on her grandparents’ horse farm and loved the animals. Niall built her the little two stall stable the first year they bought the property and for nearly forty years Patty kept them full with horses. When she got sick, Niall had to give away the horses. 

Niall ran his hand down one of the battens then sighed. Spot whimpered again.

Behind the stable towered an ancient oak tree with thick roots bulging from the ground. Niall settled himself into an indent in the tree’s trunk and sighed in relief. He yawned and closed his eyes. He felt Spot settle in his lap. The dog’s belly warmed Niall and he let out a relaxed yawn.

 “We made it boy,” he whispered as he patted Spot’s head.

He didn't know if it was the midday sun, but his vision began to fuzz. Niall’s face and hands warmed as if wrapped in a blanket straight out of the dryer. His guilts and burdens lifted off his chest like anchors hoisted from the sea.

“Niall,” a soft voice called.

He calmly opened his eyes, it was becoming hard to see because of how bright the sun was but a woman wrapped in light and gold hovered in front of him. His heart steadily picked up, it was Patty.

“Patty,” he softly moaned, reaching out for her but he just couldn't touch her.

“Niall,” Patty said again.

He tried to get up but his body just wouldn't let him.

“Niall… you’re here.”

He shut his eyes for the last time and the sound of Patty’s voice grew nearer. The brightest darkness engulfed him, wrapping him in increasingly weightless existence. 

As he finally slipped into the darkness he thought he heard a sharp cry.

“Dad.”