Marinka was eight, and Solomiyka was six. They were sisters so similar that grandmother sometimes confused them by their voices. Only their eyes were different: Marinka's were blue, like a thorn, and Solomiyka's were gray, like the spring sky.
The day before Christmas Eve, their mother gave them one task: to decorate the Christmas tree together. On the table lay paper angels, straw stars, cotton snowflakes, and a single glass ornament—an old one, still from their great-grandmother, in the shape of a silver bell. So thin that it jingled at the slightest touch.
— I'll hang up the bell! — Solomiyka shouted. — No, I will. I'm the eldest, — Marinka objected. — And I saw it first! — Give it! — I won't!
They began to pull the bell towards each other. And then - "dang" - and the silver bell fell to the floor. It broke. Into many tiny pieces.
Marinka immediately blushed: — It's your fault! — No, you! — I'm not talking to you anymore! — And I'm with you! And so they parted ways: one sat on a bench by the stove, the other on a couch. Mom gathered the fragments in a handkerchief and said quietly: — It's a shame. It was great-grandmother. But the biggest shame is that you're silent now.
Day after day it got darker. Dad put hay under the table, Mom lit a candle. The first star shone in the sky. And the two sisters sat in different corners and did not look at each other. Solomiya furtively wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Marinka gritted her teeth and thought: "I will not be the first to make peace. Not me.".
At night, when the whole house was asleep, Solomiyka woke up. She felt so lonely, as if the whole village had died. She looked at Marincha's bed - her sister was lying with her back to the wall. Solomiyka quietly got up, went to the window and whispered: "Saint Nicholas, I am very sad. I don't want to quarrel anymore.".
At that very moment, in the next room, Marinka also opened her eyes. She dreamed of her great-grandmother, who was holding a silver bell and shaking her head sadly and sadly. The girl also went to the window - the other one, in the kitchen. And she also whispered: "Saint Nicholas, I'm the first. I don't want any more.".
And then - both sisters saw an old man in white and gold robes peering at them through the window. His mitre shone. He held a staff in his hand. His white beard swayed slightly in the wind. His eyes looked at them so gently that their shame became twice as great - and twice as easy at the same time.
Saint Nicholas didn't say anything. He just held out his hand - and on it lay a single snowflake. Not an ordinary one. Silver, with a thin pattern, similar to that broken bell. He blew on it - and the snowflake sailed through the glass, as if through air, and slowly settled on the branch of the Christmas tree.
Solomiyka ran to the kitchen. Marinka peeked out of the room. They saw each other at the Christmas tree at the same time — and both looked at that snowflake. It was shining softly, like a little star.
"I'm the first," Marinka whispered. "No, I am," Solomiyka replied. And suddenly they both laughed. And threw themselves on each other's necks. They hugged each other as tightly as they hadn't hugged in a long time — as if making up for the whole day.
Mom and Dad woke up laughing and entered the room. A silver snowflake was softly shining on the Christmas tree. Mom gasped: "Where did that come from?" "It's him," the girls said in unison. "He was here.".
The snowflake did not melt the next morning, nor the week after. It hung on the tree until the very Meeting, and then mother carefully took it down, wrapped it in a white handkerchief, and hid it in a chest. "Let it wait until next Christmas Eve," she said. "Maybe it will come in handy.".
💛 The best gift under the Christmas tree is a hug from someone you had a fight with.