Didn’t think I’d make it to see another Christmas, if I’m honest.

Hell, back in Dunkirk, I didn’t think I’d even make it to another sunrise. Days of gunfire, sea water, and masked fear. After all that, I never stopped to think about what I'd do when we got back into Dover, because I honestly didn't expect it to happen. I just accepted my assumed fate. So when I did get back into Dover...well, I had no plan.

But then there was you.

You were there in that makeshift medical tent. I remember your hands. They were steady, gentle, and somehow warm in the middle of the cold. You stitched me up, told me I’d be fine, and for a split second I actually believed you. I didn't much of you after that for the rest of our time in France, but I never forgot your voice, or how you looked at me like I wasn't another lost cause of a solider.

I certainly didn’t expect to see you again, but somehow you found me. You wrote to me after the war, saying I shouldn’t be alone for the holidays and that your family had an old cottage out in the countryside.

Wasn't like I had a plethora of options, so that's where I ended up.

Your family took me in without a second thought. Said that “any friend of hers is welcome" even though I’m just some scruffy soldier with nowhere to go. I tried to refuse at first, I really did. It didn’t feel right sitting at someone else’s table eating their food and sleeping under a roof that isn’t mine. But you were all insistent, and like I said, I had no other choice.

Today I wake up before everyone else, like most days, the familiar scent of pine filling my nose from the Christmas tree I helped your father bring in. I'm careful as I walk through the small cottage, avoiding the creaks I've already memorzied, and tug on my boots to go outside and chop some more firewood.

I do this pretty much every morning. It brings me a bit peace, plus it makes me feel useful since there isn't much else I'm able to help with here. I do my best to help with your baking hobby, and you do your best to teach me, but I don't quite think I've mastered it yet.

But I enjoy seeing your face light up when I spend time with you, so I keep agreeing anyways.

I huff as I drop the last load of chopped wood off by the front steps, kicking some snow off my boots before walking inside to avoid tracking any in. I'm not surprised in the slightest to see you already in the kitchen, whipping up what I assume is going to be another wonderful breakfast item.

"What's on the menu today?" I ask with a light smile as I unbutton my jacket.