by Nzie
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program
"
They all thought
they knew better. It was always that way with the grown ones. Somehow they
thought that it all just happened, just came together. Untrue, but they didn’t
have to know; it was almost better they not. That way
there was no hint of angelic devilry, nothing to seem tainted, though it wasn’t
tainted, of course. He looked around again at the five sleepers. They’d all
nodded off on the various chairs and sofas near the dwindling flames. His
strong hand took up a bronze poker and stoked the fire. Time was growing short,
yet as often was he could not bear to part so swiftly, his kind eyes surveying
the room again.
Ah, there was that one in the corner, huddled some
against the cold. He could remember that one a child often threatened with a
stick for his antics. That’d amused him much, to think of such a man receiving
such a gift, for as much as he blustered and flustered so much he cared and
gave wholeheartedly. That nature so troublesome was also so precious, and not a
stick was ever found in his stocking come Christ’s birth. Though he had not seen
it, he was certain there must have been a part of the Christ child himself much
like this one, willing to love faithfully.
Not far away was another. He had slipped low in the chair, and might have a
sore back by morning, but would still visit one who needed his aid bright and
early. He smiled to think of the man before him, who made a child’s affinity
for fairness into an abiding love for justice. Slow to anger, compassionate and
passionate, that one saw past the handicap of wealth to feel the pain of
others, a beautiful gift both had fostered within themselves, and which the
onlooker was most proud of.
His eyes traveled closer to the heart of the home, and stopped at the two cozy
on the sofa. Her head was laid into soft, practiced chest, brother’s arm easily
around her shoulder. The visitor thought back to the man’s childhood; they were
not as free then as now, but he’d watched discreetly,
and had seen the joy, and helped it along where he could. The man kept perhaps
the brightest spark of olden jubilations, for hardship breeds sinewy resilience
and strong hold on those things dear. Maybe that is why they slept in each
other’s company, for she too held fast. Such love was a more precious gift than
those found under any tree anywhere.
His eyes traveled again to the old woman asleep by the fire. She leaned into
the wing of the chair and breathed softly. She loved the season. She had her
whole life, a long and happy life. Tempered, yes, with sorrow but never
hopeless, never ungrateful for the many gifts, despite hardship and grief. She
had taught her children well. A few years hence she would enjoy Christmas with
the Christ child himself, but it was not time yet. Till then she would enjoy
the happy feast and relish the love which was most precious gift.
He had given this household his most precious gift, love, and now had to go.
St. Nicholas sighed softly, looked towards the Heavens, and with a prayer, was
gone.
THE END