The Spirit Of Christmas
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It was a day in early December. The snow had fallen overnight, and the world outside looked like a painting by a child’s hand. In the warm room of the little house, with the fire crackling merrily, the family was gathered together. It was a rare occurrence—there were so many of them.
There was Father, Mother, their two daughters, and two sons who lived with them. The two boys were brothers, but they could not have been more different from each other.
The older one was a big boy, with broad shoulders and strong arms. He had grown up hard, but he had come through it all right. He had been a fighter all his life, and he had never let anything stand in his way. Now he was married to a woman who loved him, and they had two children of their own. His wife was a good woman, and she took care of him. He was proud of her.
The younger boy was a skinny little thing, with pale skin and big eyes. He had always been sickly, but he seemed to be getting worse. His mother was very worried about him, and she was crying. She kept trying to tell him that everything would be all right, but he couldn’t hear her.
The boy’s father sat down next to the boy’s mother. He put his arm around her shoulder, and said, “Everything will be all right.”
The boy’s mother wiped away her tears. “I know,” she said. “I just wish I knew how.”
Father turned to his son. “You mustn’t worry, my boy,” he said. “It’ll all work out somehow.”
“Yes, sir,” said the boy.
His father smiled at him. “That’s the spirit!” he said. “And you, too, young man! Don’t let your brother upset you. He’s always been like this, and he’ll always be like this. But you’ve got to learn to ignore him.”
The boy nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“Well, that’s all for now,” said Father. “We’re going to have Christmas dinner soon, and then we’ll go to Midnight Mass. You children will help me clear the table when we’re done, and then you can play with your toys while your mother and I do the dishes.”
The children looked at each other. They were excited about Christmas, but they were also a little afraid of it. Christmas was a strange time, and no one knew what to expect. The older boy got up and walked over to his brother. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, and said, “Come on, now. Let’s get you ready.”
The boy shook his head. “No, I don’t want to,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll ever get better.”
The boy’s father looked at him. “I’m sure you will,” he said. “I’m sure you will.”
The boy’s mother came over and took his hand. “You know,” she said, “you’ll never be as strong as your brother, but you’re just as good, and you’re just as brave, too.”
The boy looked at her. “I am?” he said. “Really?”
She smiled at him. “Of course,” she said. “I’d know, wouldn’t I? And you’ll never be as big as your brother, either, but you’ll always be a good man, and I’m proud of you.”
The boy’s mother led him to the door. “You’re going to get better,” she said. “I know you will. I know you will.”
The boy nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
His mother kissed him on the cheek, and then she opened the door. Outside, the snow was falling softly, and it was so quiet that you could hear the sound of the flakes as they landed on the ground. The boy took a deep breath and smelled the cold air. It smelled clean and pure, and wonderful. He turned to his brother, and said, “Let’s go!”
Together, the two boys walked out into the snow.
“There’s the tree,” said the older boy.
“It’s beautiful,” said the younger.
They went over to it, and the older boy pulled off some of the branches. The younger boy helped him, and together they hung the decorations. They didn’t use very many—just a few holly berries here and there, and a sprig of mistletoe. They placed the star on top of the tree, and then they stood back and looked at it.
“Well,” said the older boy. “Now we’re ready.”
The younger boy nodded. “Yes,” he said. “We are.”
***
The snow was falling harder now, and it was getting deeper. The older boy and the younger boy were building a snowman. It was their first snowman, and they were excited about it. They had found a carrot for his nose, and some buttons for his eyes.
“Now all we need is a hat,” said the older boy. “A real hat.”
The younger boy thought for a moment. “What about that one?” he said. “Over there, in the bushes.”
“That’s perfect!” said the older boy. “Come on, let’s get it!”
Together, they ran over to the bush. The snow was soft and fluffy under their feet, and the air was cold and crisp. The older boy picked up the hat, and held it out to the younger boy. “Here,” he said. “Put this on.”
The younger boy took the hat from him and put it on. It felt warm and cozy against his head. “I like it,” he said. “It’s just right.”
The older boy smiled. “See?” he said. “All we need now is a scarf.”
Together, they ran back to the snowman. The younger boy took off the hat and put it back on the snowman. Then he took the scarf from the older boy and wrapped it around the snowman’s neck.
“There,” he said. “Isn’t he a beauty?”
The older boy nodded. “He really is,” he said. “Come on, let’s get him some arms and legs.”
Together, they ran back to the snowman, and the younger boy took the hat and the scarf and put them back on the snowman. He picked up the carrot and the buttons and put them in the snowman’s pocket. Then he picked up the hat and put it on the snowman’s head.
“There,” he said. “Isn’t he handsome?”
The older boy nodded. “He really is,” he said. “I think he’s perfect.”
They stood back and looked at the snowman. The snow was falling softly, and the air was so cold that you could see your breath. The snowman was smiling, and he looked happy. The older boy put his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “For helping me make him.”
The younger boy smiled at him. “You’re welcome,” he said.
“Now,” said the older boy. “Let’s go home.”
Together, they walked back to the house. They went inside, and their mother came over to them. She smiled at them both, and she reached out and touched the snowman. “How beautiful,” she said. “I never thought I’d see two boys who would help each other make a snowman.”
The older boy smiled. “We wanted to help,” he said. “It was our first snowman, and we wanted to do it together.”
His mother smiled. “I know,” she said. “That’s very sweet of you.”
“Mom,” said the younger boy. “Look!”
He pointed at the snowman.
The snowman was gone.
The older boy looked at him. “What happened?” he said.
“He melted,” said the younger boy. “He melted all by himself.”
***
The next day, the two boys were playing in the snow again. It was their second day making a snowman. This time, they made one with two heads. One was red, and one was blue.
“How did you do that?” said the older boy.
The younger boy smiled. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I like it.”
They laughed together, and then they ran back to the house. Their mother was waiting for them, and she smiled at them both. “Did you have fun?” she said.
“Yes,” said the older boy. “We had fun.”
“Good,” said their mother. “That’s what I like to hear.”
The two boys nodded. They went into the house, and their mother brought them some hot chocolate. She gave them each a cup, and then she sat down with them. “What do you want to do now?” she said.
“I want to play in the snow,” said the younger boy.
“Me too,” said the older boy. “Can we make another snowman?”
Their mother smiled. “Of course,” she said. “Let’s go outside and get started.”
Together, they went out into the snow. The air was cold, but the snow was soft and fluffy under their feet. It was warm in the sun, and it was even warmer in the shade. The boys laughed and ran around, and they made a snowman.
“Aren’t we having fun?” said the younger boy.
The older boy nodded. “We are,” he said. “We’re having the best time ever.”
They stood back and looked at the snowman. It was smiling, and it was holding a carrot in one hand and a button in the other. The older boy put his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “You did a great job,” he said. “Thanks for helping me.”
The younger boy smiled at him. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Let’s go inside now.”
Together, they went back into the house. Their mother was sitting in the kitchen, and she looked up as they came in. “Did you have fun?” she said.
The older boy nodded. “We had the best time ever,” he said.
Their mother smiled. “That’s what I like to hear,” she said.
***
That night, the older boy was sleeping in his bed when he heard the sound of footsteps going by outside his window. The sky was dark, but the moon shone through the clouds. He could see the snow glistening in the streetlights.
As soon as the steps stopped, he saw someone else looking up at the window, and there was laughter from the shadows. The man turned, and he started walking away—away toward his own house. His father’s house.
“Don’t be sad,” said the voice that echoed in his mind. “I’ll come back tomorrow night.”
The next day, he found his mother crying, and he didn’t understand why until she told him.
“Your father died last night,” she said. “A drunk driver hit the car he was driving, and—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not my dad.”
But she was crying too hard to listen. She held him close, and her tears fell on his shoulders. She was telling him about his father, and how he had been killed in a car accident last night. And the next thing he knew, she was carrying him upstairs to his bedroom.
“There was an angel,” he said. “She said she would come back tomorrow night.”
His mother nodded. “That’s right,” she said. “I’m sure she will.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, smiling up at her. “Tomorrow, we can build a snowman.”
“Maybe,” she said. “We’ll see.”
She left him alone to think about his father, but before she closed the door behind her, he called after her, “Please make sure you tell Grandma and Grandpa.”
And she was gone.
⁂
The snow was falling faster than ever. All the way home, it had been snowing harder than he’d ever seen before. When he finally got out of the subway station and stepped into the street, he could hardly believe it. The snowflakes were huge, and they were flying so thick and fast, he couldn’t even see across the road.
It was Christmas Eve, and this was supposed to be a special night for him. For the past few years, he had spent Christmas Eve in a bar downtown, and tonight he was meeting a girl for a drink. He wasn’t really interested in her, but it was nice to have something to do on such a lonely night.
So when he stepped out of the subway and the flakes started falling from the sky, he thought, This is perfect. I’ll meet her at the pub, and we can spend all evening sitting here by the fire and watching the snow fall outside. Then when the clock strikes midnight, we can go home.
He crossed the street against the light, just as usual. He hated crossing streets without stopping. There was a little shop across the way, and he always stopped and looked in at the toy store while he was waiting for the light to change.
But today there was no one in the shop, and he walked straight past without even noticing. When he crossed the street, the first thing that caught his eye was the big sign on the front of the toy store: CLOSED FOR CHRISTMAS!
The second thing that caught his attention was a woman standing beside the streetlamp on the corner. She was wearing a fur coat, and she was looking up at the flakes with a strange expression on her face. As he passed her, he noticed a red scarf hanging around her neck.
It had a big Santa Claus printed on it, but he hadn’t paid much attention to that because he was still staring at the sign. Suddenly he realized she was pointing at the same thing, and then he saw what she was looking at too. In the middle of the snowy street, a huge pile of garbage had been knocked over by someone’s car.
It was lying upside down in the gutter, covered by a tangle of old newspapers, broken bottles, and cigarette packets. He felt sorry for whoever had thrown it out of their car in such a hurry; they must have been pretty desperate to find somewhere so filthy they could leave all that trash. But now all he could think about was that Santa Claus scarf.
For a moment, he hesitated, and then he started walking toward the woman with the Santa Claus scarf. She stood beside the pile of garbage, and she pointed at it again. Her eyes were very round and bright, like two shiny saucers; when she spoke, her voice sounded high and musical.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said. “And here’s your rubbish man!”
He took off his hat, and he put it on her head. She didn’t say anything at first, but she just kept staring at him with her wide, surprised eyes. Her hair was long and white-blond, and when she moved her head slightly, he saw that there was a gold chain around her neck. It had a tiny Santa Claus charm hanging from it.
“Thank you,” she said after a while. “Merry Christmas.”
He smiled politely. He couldn’t take his eyes off the Santa Claus scarf. Even though it was only November, it was already beginning to look more like December. He’d never seen snow like this before, not once in his life. It was so beautiful he wanted to keep it forever in his memory, just like those pictures you see in books where everything is covered in snow.
He turned away and walked back across the street against the traffic lights, which made him smile. That was how it usually happened on Christmas Eve. People would stop and stare at him as if he was some kind of miracle. But this time, people weren’t looking at him at all.
They were looking at the snowflakes falling outside their windows. The snow was so thick and white it seemed almost to glow. And it was going to keep on falling until morning.
He crossed the street again, and then he went into the toy store across the way. It was full of children playing with toys and shouting and laughing. A man with an enormous beard was standing behind the counter, and every time someone came in to buy a toy, he gave them a present.
The children were so happy and excited, they ran around the shop yelling and laughing. He watched them for a while, but none of them seemed to notice him.
Then he left the shop, and when he reached the end of the street he looked back over his shoulder at the toy store. There was a little girl sitting on a wooden rocking horse. She had her hands folded in her lap and she was watching him with her big blue eyes. Then he walked through the snow toward home.
At first, he thought he might get lost because he didn’t know where he was going. All the houses looked exactly the same, and the streets were all the same too. But eventually, he found himself back on the path he had used to come home from school that day. And as he walked along that familiar road, he heard music coming from behind one of the houses.
A group of young girls was singing Christmas carols. Their voices rang out clearly above the sound of the wind, and the snow was melting under their feet. The girl beside him stopped suddenly, and then she started dancing. When she saw him smiling at her, she laughed.
“Don’t forget to put the star on top of the Christmas tree,” she said.
When the song finished, she waved to him and started walking towards another house. She disappeared inside, but she didn’t close the door behind her. Instead, she stood looking out of the window at the snow while the snow fell silently all around her.
⁂
THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS BY RALPH SWANSON
I have no intention of making any attempt to tell this story in a linear fashion. It was not, after all, a linear event – and I feel no compunction about violating the natural flow of its telling in my desire to be accurate (as far as that can be done) about events that took place many years ago.
What is it like to live in a world without the sun? This is the question that most often comes up whenever anyone has occasion to speak to me. It always surprises me, however, that people seem so unaware of what we already know, and what I have been able to learn since my arrival in the willow world.
The fact is that there is indeed sunshine: it simply shines in a different way. We can even see it shining in our own sky.
The sun in its ordinary sense has been banished by a powerful willow, who calls herself The Dark One and who, incidentally, is the last of the great dark ones, whose power began to decline some thousands of years ago. The willows have become progressively weaker, losing their powers in a series of generations, and at the moment the strength of the Dark One seems virtually total.
In addition to sunlight, willows can create a number of other kinds of light: pale yellowy-green glimmers, and also a kind of phosphorescent glow, which is the brightest kind and therefore best suited for illuminating the darkest night.
It is possible to build fires in willow boles, and the glow from these can sometimes illuminate the whole area surrounding them. It is not easy to make fire in a living willow, but it can be done. If you are very lucky, The Dark One will not interfere with your efforts, although you do risk being struck down by a bolt of lightning if you happen to be careless or unlucky enough.
As well as making light, willows can change the color of things that lie beneath their branches – a function which they use in order to hide their young and to prevent people from stumbling over them. They can also cause things to disappear altogether, and this is perhaps the most useful of all the skills possessed by these ancient trees.
The End