As long as I can remember I have always kept Christmas and its' traditions deep in my heart. The sounds of carols and hymns have lifted my spirit; the anticipation of the day and the sharing of tidings with family and friends have always put a skip in my heart and lightness to my step. Watching those I care for the most, open the treasures I had carefully selected for their surprise, that was always the best part, it brings special magic to the day. It has always been that way, as long as I can remember.
As a special memory each year I've tried to write a poem or story regarding the holiday to share as a heartfelt gift to all, a reminder of the true depths of the meaning of Christmas. They have always been inspired by the joy and the happiness I found within my family and the season.
This year was different; the spirit of the holiday came upon me like a surprise ending in an O'Henry story. I found him sitting all alone among the Porcelain Santa's, Angels and Wise men in a discount shop. Like an orphan eagerly awaiting a home he seemed to call to me and I impulsively added him to my purchases. I didn't think much of him till last night when I finally unwrapped him and placed him on my desk and looked him over.
The figurine was a young boy maybe nine or ten. He stood quite proud in a crumpled set of tails, a bowler hat in one hand and a walking stack in the other. His pants looked five inches two long and hung in folds at his ankles, his vest buttoned over a tarnished shirt that was two sizes to small. A faded red bow-tie encircled his neck; he had hair the color golden wheat, and the face of a cherub. But it was his eyes that caught my attention, they were a deep blue but I swore they looked as old as forever. The expression upon his face was almost as if he wanted to share something with me. I laughed off the silly notion and went about my business of preparing for the next day until my head began to nod from exhaustion and I closed my eyes for a brief respite.
A knock on my front door startled me out of my slumber, and I stumbled to the door to see who could possibly be pounding at such an early hour. Thinking back I probably should have been more careful but I was still half asleep as I pulled open the door to reveal an old white-bearded man silhouetted by the pale moonlight. His rounded face was creased with wrinkles that accentuated the broad and cheerful grin on his face as he offered his card.
Saurabh
