Christmas Tale

 The snowflakes fall gently and steadily on this quaint, little town. A Norman Rockwell painting come to life, some would say. Neat, cozy, well kept homes spread across a breathtaking landscape, peacefully silent under the blanket of the newly fallen, virgin snow. Happy patrons bustle in and out of the festively decorated shops, while excited children anticipate the arrival of the holiday season, their warm smiles enough to stifle Old Man Winter’s chill. This magical time of year was always sure to bring out the best in an already picture perfect place.

He trudged through the snow with the pain of hunger in his belly and the pain of loneliness in his heart. His old, tattered clothing, barely enough to keep his aging, ailing body warm. A thick, white beard covered his once handsome face, a shock of silver gray hair on his head. As he walked, he blew heated breaths into his cupped, withered, icy hands, covered by fingerless gloves. As he ambled his way towards the town, he dreamed of warmer, younger days

For a man who had no home, this town was the closest thing he could call his own. His name was Jack, and that’s all that anyone really knew about the homeless man with the white beard and the jolly personality. One of a very small congregation of vagrants, Jack resided in a storm drain located near a running stream, just outside of town. A fixture for so many years, he was accepted and tolerated by the town’s people as he toiled through trash cans for food and gladly accepted their hospitality. The harmless old tramp who resembled Santa Claus was no stranger to these parts or to its residents.

Christmas was just around the corner as Jack eagerly anticipated making his rounds. As he neared the town, he could feel its warmth caressing his face, and upon reaching his destination, a sense of peace had overcome him. He was ‘home’ now, and as he walked the snow covered, cobblestone streets, he tried so hard to blend in with its happy passersby. A merchant, a kind old lady, perhaps. Someone was sure to extend their hospitable hand to him, especially at this time of year.

For a man who had nothing, Jack longed not to feel the joy of receiving, but for the distinct joy of giving. How wonderful it would be, he dreamed, to be a man of great means. To be someone who could give the ultimate gift That, he thought, would be the true meaning of happiness. To give of one’s self and neither expect nor require something in return was a feeling that he, a man who had nothing, could only dream about. He took in a deep breath of the frigid air and he imagined, and walked on.

The streets were full of busy shoppers, hustling their way around town, tying up the last minute loose ends of holiday purchases. Sidewalk Santas cheerfully stood on blustery street corners as their hand held bells jingled in a Yuletide song. The delectable aroma from the town’s favorite restaurant seemed to reach out to those cold and hungry, eager for a break from this holiday madness. Upon the first heavenly whiffs of this fine eatery, Jack would find himself peering into one of its frosty windows, as the images of a meal fit for a king summoned the painful pangs of hunger throughout his malnourished frame

The rich little girl who sat so prim, proper and well behaved was a pretty as a porcelain doll. Jack couldn’t help but smile as she dined so daintily, her aristocratic mother seated across from her. A hint of uneasiness was evident in her mother’s expression, as she briefly turned to see Jack, staring hungrily through the icy window pane. They were from another part of this town, one which had never seen the likes of Jack and his kind and would never acknowledge their painful existence. Everyone knew of the wealthy Stiles family, and a rare shopping excursion from their exclusive community would place young Angelique and her mother here at the restaurant for a brief rest.

They continued to dine and Jack continued to stare, delighted by the innocence and beauty of the little girl from the wealthy part of town. The vapors from his cold breath clouded the glass as his frigid fingers cleared his pleasant view. He watched, and the little girl talked and dined. It wasn’t very long until Jack began to notice an abrupt change in the girl’s expression. The happy young lady who ate and chatted had suddenly become silent. A puzzled look began to fill her pretty face as its color quickly faded to white. Her fork would drop from her fragile hand and she began to gasp and grab for her throat. Jack’s heart began to race as he came to realize what was happening in front of him.

The moment appeared to be frozen in time as the other restaurant patrons had stopped in their tracks and looked on in horror. Panic had ensued and no one had a hint of what could be done for her. Jack didn’t even have the time to think. Before he even knew it, his sickly, tired, old body had whisked him through the main doors and into the dining area. In a split, terrifying second, he had grabbed Angelique from her seat and tumbled onto the carpeted floor with her, pounding at her back and pressing on her stomach. He was desperate and determined as he pounded and pushed, and the ugly, jagged chicken bone shot from her throat nearly half way across the great room. Her gurgled attempts at breathing had become smoother, and as the color returned to her, so did her young life. For one deep split second, their tearful eyes would meet, but the ongoing confusion and commotion would separate them from each other.

Perhaps it was the shock of it all. Maybe it was the confusion. But nobody seemed to realize what the homeless man with the bushy white beard had done. As help arrived, Jack could feel himself being removed from the restaurant and thrown back into the cold, familiar streets to the harsh tune of, “Get the hell out of here, you bum!” This hurt Jack more than an arrow through his huge heart, and as a crowd converged on the restaurant, the sick, dejected old man returned to the cold, wet, lonely place where he slept.

Young Angelique had suffered some slight damage to her throat from the sharp bone but she would be alright. She laid in the hospital bed and she wondered. Then it finally came to her. “Mommy, where is Santa Claus?” she said. Her mother, both relieved and still quite shocked over the near tragedy, had thought nothing of the child’s question and chose to humor her. But it wasn’t until her second inquiry, that her mother had realized what her young daughter was referring to. “Mommy, where is Santa Claus? He’s the one who saved me yesterday. Don’t you remember?”

It hit Mrs. Stiles like a lightning bolt from the sky. It was indeed, that homeless man who came to their aid last night in the restaurant. “Oh my God!” she thought. In all the confusion and chaos, this brave soul was not even acknowledged for his unselfish, heroic deed. For this great act of human kindness to go unnoticed would in fact be tragic, she thought. “Mommy, I want to see him! Please, Mommy! Can I see him?” cried young Angelique. Mrs. Stiles would now use all her powers to find the white haired vagrant who saved her young daughter’s innocent life, and had disappeared into the frozen winter’s night.

The Stiles family had searched for days for Jack, who was lying in the wet, freezing filthy storm drain, sick and growing weaker with each passing day. Young volunteers combed the town’s back alleys and wooded areas to no avail. Leaflets and posters with a police photo of Jack were hung around the area as the whole town was buzzing about the heroic act performed by the jolly old tramp who resembled Santa Claus. But the one break would come when another homeless man, Jimmy, would go wandering around the town in search of a hot meal.

Jimmy was an old friend of Jack’s, but he had just spent some time in a detoxification program for alcoholics just a few miles from the town. He was back today and he had heard the story, and when he saw Jack’s photo, he contacted the local police and had led them to the dreary storm drain area where Jack laid sick and dying. As if just in the nick of time, help had arrived. They removed the still barely alive Jack and quickly transported him to the local hospital.

As physicians feverishly worked on him, the frost bitten, sickly, malnourished Jack had shown signs of improvement. In a still semiconscious state, the old fellow didn’t even have a clue as to the sheer delight and excitement of the town’s people, having found their hero. The Stiles family was elated, and they had patiently awaited the reunion, especially for Angelique’s sake. As Jack’s condition slightly improved, that special moment was about to happen

The little girl stood at his bedside and stared at the old man. She nervously smiled, and at her mother’s urging, she held his hand. Jack’s eyes slowly began to open and a wide smile had engulfed his face. Their eyes had again met in a deep moment, tears trickling down their faces, as they exchanged a soft “Thank you.” This was the moment that Jack’s life had been fulfilled. He had given of himself, the ultimate gift of love, and he had indeed received the same in return. He held the little girl’s hand tightly, as a great sense of peace and warmth had overcome him.

It is springtime now, and the warm, seasonal winds quietly melt the snowy blanket from this peaceful town. Lovely, colorful flowers begin to replace the snow covered landscape, and the happy song of the returning birds is sweet music to anyone's ears. Sadly, Jack is gone now, but Christmas will come again, and a little girl and a whole town will tell a Christmas tale and a story of giving and receiving an ultimate gift of love.