A Very Merry Christmas
Disclaimer: I am not associated with Island records or the Hanson family. I just use Hanson for my stories.
Every year, Christmas just sneaks up on me. First, it’s summer, then BOOM it’s Christmas. And with Christmas, come the memories. Memories of my family. My mother would always go all out when cooking Christmas dinner. My siblings and I decorated the tree and the rest of the house. And my dad would be at his usual spot, on the couch, sleeping like a log. That’s the way it was—perfect.
Now, I am alone, in my crappy one bedroom apartment, thousands of miles away from home. I haven’t seen anyone in my family in years. Not that they would want to see me anyway, not after what I have done.
It will be Christmas eve in approximately two hours. “I can’t spend Christmas in this hell-hole.” I think to myself. I grab my coat and head outside. It is snowing as I walk out of the apartment building. As I walk, I can see through the windows of houses. I see people opening presents and just having the time of their lives. I can see the way a child’s face lights up when the child gets a present. There is no doubt that this night will be forever imprinted into a person’s memory. Whenever that person thinks about Christmas, he or she will automatically think of this particular night. This night where everything was perfect. I wish this was a perfect Christmas for me. But now, all Christmas brings to me is sorrow and guilt.
Not a very merry Christmas, methinks.
I stop walking and sit down at a bench. I look up to the sky and say, “Lord? Was this the way it was supposed to be?” I wait, expecting to hear a voice, but of course, there wasn’t one.
“Excuse me, miss? Do you need a ride?” a young taxi driver asks me. He has short dark blond curly hair and brown eyes. He looks a couple years younger than I, probably about twenty years old.
“I don’t have any money.”
“That’s okay, the ride’s on me.” he smiles and opens the passenger door.
“Okay, why not?” I say and enter the car.
“Where to?” he asks me.
“I guess you could take me home.” I say to him and give him my address.
“Home, it is.” he says. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you alone on Christmas eve?”
“I...I haven’t seen or heard from my family in three years. You see...I’ve done something really terrible. It’s unforgivable.”
“Nothing is unforgivable.” he says with pure optimism.
“You think so?”
“Yes. Sure people can hold grudges, but eventually, everyone is forgiven, if they ask for it.”
“So, you’re saying that I should ask for forgiveness.”
“No. All I’m saying is that everyone is forgiven, no matter what they might have done. You may have done something terrible, but that does not make you a terrible person.”
“Thank you.” I smile.
“You’re welcome,” he smiles back. “Although, I am just telling the truth.”
“I like your optimism.”
“Everyone should be optimistic. The Lord didn’t give us life just to dread it. I think he wants us to enjoy it for all it’s worth.”
I chuckle a little. “You know, you aren’t like any taxi driver I have ever met. You’re actually nice.”
“Well, Christmas brings out the good in everybody.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“Well, this is your stop.” he says and stops the taxi. “You’re home, as asked.”
“I want to thank you. You made me feel a whole lot better. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” he replies and smiles.
I step out of the car and I freeze. “Wait, this isn’t home. This is...home?” I was brought back home. I could see my old house, and in the windows, I could see my family. But it’s impossible to be home, isn’t it? It would have taken him days to bring me here. “What the...” I turn around and find that the taxi is not there. He seems to have vanished into thin air. I just stand there in shock for a couple minutes, with snow collecting on my shoulders.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn around quickly to see who it was. My eyes immediately fill with tears. “Mommy?” I say in a shaky voice. She didn’t say anything and just hugged me, her eyes wet wit tears. I hug her as tight as I can.
“I’ve missed you, baby,” she whispers in my ear.
“I’ve missed you, too.” I whisper back. We let go of each other and walk toward the house. When I reach the doorstep, I stop and look at the sky. “Thank you for taking me home,” I say.
†Merry Christmas†
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