Up In The Sky
written by: Shelagh Sutton
In the wide corridor, Éabha leaps from one orange square to the next. Her runner flashes as she lands, lighting up just like the Christmas tree lights in the entrance hall. A woman wearing a navy striped apron wheels a teacart past her. Music wafts out softly from the Day Room. “Drivin’ home for Christmas, yeah.” Éabha’s quilted, purple coat is unzipped, and red mittens on strings dangling from her sleeves flutter as she leaps to the next square.
A nurse dressed in a light-blue uniform is walking towards her. “Isn’t that a lovely Christmas butterfly,” she exclaims, nodding at Éabha’s jumper.
Éabha pauses, balancing on one leg, and looks down at her jumper, which depicts a cartoon butterfly wearing a Santa hat. “She’s saying ‘Merry Christmas’,” Éabha says, explaining the butterfly’s speech bubble.
The nurse smiles warmly. “And Merry Christmas to the little butterfly, too,” she says and passes on by. Éabha leaps again, onto the next tile.
She stops on this square, hovering on one foot. There is an open doorway on her left. She turns to look, tracing with her eyes the red tinsel around the doorframe. It has some white strands mixed in with the shiny red. She’s never seen tinsel like that before. Something catches her attention. Inside. She looks in, balancing still on one leg. An airy room with walls painted a soft blue and a bed in each corner, all empty but for the one she looks at, diagonally across the room. An old, shrunken man. He is all alone. She is not sad – it’s Christmas Eve, so she is excited. But she sees his sadness. Lying on his side, the old man clutches his bedclothes under his chin with one hand. His body is tiny, but it makes mountainous slopes of the smooth, white blanket. She sees his eyes: two gleaming gemstones, far more distant than the length of the room. “Treasure,” she whispers to herself, her eyes widening. And she steps into the room. She walks towards him.
A glass with false teeth inside sits on his bedside locker, and next to it, a smaller, white, plastic cup with a straw. One more item is displayed on the locker, and when she gets closer, Éabha sees it is a white statue of Our Lady.
He is perfectly still. The snowy mountains on his bedsheets don’t move at all. His face is sunken. His eyes are vacant, hollow, dark, but they begin to change as he slowly starts registering someone else in the room.
She says, “You’re old, like grandad was.” She looks into his eyes, smiling. “Grandad went up into the sky when I was four.” She crinkles her nose. “But I’m five now,” she adds, proudly.
He takes a deep breath. And he blinks. And in his eyes, she can see a glint, a sparkle.
“Did you know your eyes have sparkles,” she asks, “like magic?”
He swallows. “Where’s your mammy?” his voice is between a crack and a whisper.
“She’s in with granny.”
“Will she be looking for you?” he rasps, his voice dry. His breath is shaky. He glances at the water on the locker. His lips are dry too. Éabha follows his gaze and picks up the plastic cup. She carefully holds it in front of him so he can take a sip.
“They all fell asleep,” she tells him. “Mammy said the baby was awake all night. She has a new tooth today.” She can still hear Christmas songs playing from the day room, the music is more faint now: “It’s the most… wonderful time of the year.”
“A new tooth for Christmas,” he says, and he smiles weakly, but enough for her to see his gums. She places the cup back on the locker. It wobbles for a second before settling.
He blinks slowly again. “Is Santy coming?” he asks.
“Yep! Tonight!” she says. “He’s bringing Etch-a-sketch for me. And a Fisher-Price Walker for the baby. We been so good! Especially the baby, but me too,” she says, nodding emphatically. “’Cept when I drawed on the wall, but Daddy said I’m just learning and everyone has to learn.” She smiles again. “What’s Santy bringing you?” she asks.
He tries to chuckle, but can only muster a quiet heh. “I don’t need anything anymore,” he says. Then, gazing into the distance adds, “Maybe Santy will bring me away with him this year,” his eyes broaden. “Wouldn’t that be… a fine place to go after you go…” He swallows. “Bringing joy to boys and girls all over the world.”
“That would be so magic!” Éabha says. “Wait, do you want to see my magic?”
The old man nods a little nod.
“Watch!” She walks over to the window and breathes onto it. “I’m a dragon, see?” she says, breathing again and watching the window fog up. “Smoke!” she squeaks with delight.
If he had more energy, he would laugh. He smiles. “I didn’t know you could do magic,” he says slowly. He blinks again, his eyes stay closed for a second before reopening.
“We all do magic,” she explains, as though it’s as obvious as the sky being blue.
He looks at her and smirks. “You remind me of my girl when she was little,” he whispers, wistfully. “Sure, she’s in England this long time.” He blinks slowly. “She won’t make it,” he says sadly. “I wanted to tell her one more time…”
“You can tell her – with your sparkly eyes!” Éabha says, her eyes wide. “With your magic! Especially on Christmas Eve when the magic is the best.” She nods a series of short, quick nods. Her eyes rest on his waxy hand. She tilts her head and reaches her hand to his. She strokes the back of his hand, pale and lined with purple and blue. “You just close your eyes and whisper it in your head. She will feel it…” she says. He sighs through his nose, “Hnhh,” and blinks slowly, then closes his eyes. She holds onto his cool hand. He takes a soft breath.
“She’ll feel it, because she’s magic too,” Éabha says.
The old man takes a big, soft inhale.
“Just like me, and just like you.” Éabha smiles. She speaks quietly now, “and just like Santy. He’s magic. And… he loves everyone.”
The man seems to relax, like he’s fallen asleep.
“Magic and love is the same thing, really,” she says. She glances at the statue of Our Lady. She wears all-white robes and a golden crown. Her open palms hover just in front of her shoulders, and her head is tilted back so that she looks up to the sky. Éabha gazes upwards too. She whispers, “’Cause the times when you love… and the times when you do magic… it feels zactly the same.” She smiles.
The room is quiet. The man is still.
- Up In The Sky - December 22, 2025
