It was cold outside.

The snow began to fall, turning the gray streets into a white surface. The white flakes lay over everything and everyone like a veil.

Children and their parents built a wide variety of snowmen. There were also a few snowwomen in the small front gardens.
Ice flowers bloomed on the windowpanes, behind which warm lights shone.

In the evening it got dark and the children were called inside. It grew quiet outside and the snow glistened in the moonlight.

It almost seemed as if the snow figures were alive and talking to each other.

The smoke from the chimneys crystallized in the cool air and then rose towards the stars.

Inside, the houses smelled of warm food. Often there were two adults and their children, who were busy filling themselves with food, who lived here.

The pots of food still steamed and spread the fragrance throughout the house. In most houses it was the case that the living rooms bordered on the kitchens.

In many living rooms there was a large or small green conifer.
The most varied balls were already hanging on some of them. Large and small, shiny and matte.

But not just bullets. Straw stars, angels and glass instruments also hung from the branches.

This picture presented itself to pretty much everyone who walked the small streets.

But that wasn't the case with a house. The old lady who had lived there died three months ago. Leaving the house and standing there quietly.

The street kids already missed the old lady. Every year the day before Christmas Eve, she had baked a big cookie.
The old lady had been looking for the ingredients for the dough while the children had taken care of the decorations.

But this year the house would be empty and quiet. No flour would whirl through the air, no laughter would sound, and no cookie smell would fill the whole house. It would just be emptiness.

So the kids made a decision.
The days before Christmas, they baked the cookies that they had baked with the old lady every year. The big children made the dough and the little ones were allowed to eat.

On Christmas Eve they took the cookies, a candle and a picture of the old lady. The house was quiet, the children were looking for a suitable place for the presents.

Finally, they chose the kitchen. There they placed the cookies next to the photo and lit the candle.

No one said anything until a voice broke the silence.

"Thank you"

It were simple words and yet full of feeling.

A smile graced the children's lips when they finally returned to their parents.

It was quiet again in the old lady's house and the smell of biscuits was in the air. And it seemed as if the lady in the photo raised the corner of her mouth with a slight smile.

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