My Little Christmas story
Photo credit: caz1958 from morguefile.com
It was Christmas eve. Snowflakes all over the place as far as my eyes could see. Joy and happiness filled the air. As I drove my car to the cathedral. There were lights lit across the snow dressed trees. My car reached the cathedral which was 5 km away from my home. I heard the angelic voices going high in the air. The choir was doing great with the rehearsal. I occupied a place closer to the rear front. My lips muttered along with choir singing oh Holy night…
I was trying to remember my good old Christmas days with my family. How I missed them. Well not to mention, I had lost them in a car accident, a couple of years ago. My cheeks got drenched along with my eyes. It was still 5 pm. Alas! My watch stopped ticking. It was almost dark. I walked out and the cold winds swept my nostrils and gave shivers to my veins. I turned on the radio in my car. It was Burton’s usual weather forecast.
My eyes caught the neon sign board ” Wilbur’s café”. My nose grasped the aroma of the freshly baked cakes and cookies.well, I missed my uncle’s chocolate pudding.He moved to Paris with his family.I could no longer bear with the grumble my gut was making. I walked in and ordered some crunchies and a hot chocolate. Unexpectedly I noticed a pair of eyes staring at me from outside. A small kid with worn out clothes was standing with a big hint of innocence. I waved my hand and he smiled back. I called him inside but he nodded his head and refused. So I bought him a pack of caramel cookies and a café au lait. The tip of his nose turned upwards.
He was a funny looking red haired boy. I handed over the stuff to him. He received it with all happiness. His face glowed with a big smile. But to my surprise. He had not eaten any of it. He kept it safely in his little backpack. He was 7 years old when I inquired of his age. I thought I could do even some more favour to that little guy. So I drove him to his home. 3 km from Wilbur’s. I hardly saw any lights in his home. No music, neither any thrill filled the place. Just the cold winds from north and the plain snowy appearance.
The boy was in a haste and hurried inside and called me in. Faint candle lights, broken furniture, old dirty curtains, mended shoes and torn socks remained in the racks. His ailing mother was lying on a bed with the red haired boy feeding her the cookies dipped in café au lait. The scene drew me near to her. She kept seeing me like my eyes were locked to her’s. My knees bent and my hands touched her face. She was cold as ice. I threw my coat over her. Her lips moved and mumbled “Thank you sir” .
She continued,”If only you could take care of my son”.
I will and I promise, I said swiftly. Then she kissed her son and held tight his hands and told him I Love you and you are in better hands and breathed her last. The boy blinked of not knowing what was happening. Emotions flooded my heart. I held the boy’s hands and didn’t know what to utter. I carried him in my arms and raised him as my own son. That was one of the best Christmas I ever had. My little Christmas story.
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