It is the Christmas season- a time of family, a time of love, a time of cheer. Yet deep in the heart of our proud cities, beyond the snobby suburbs, behind the smoke choking factories, Christmas is only a dream in the hearts of the very young. This is our story:
The boy hurried down 6th avenue. Even though it was a holiday, cops might still be on their beat, and in his pocket were some goods he would rather not be caught with. The bitter wind bit his arms and legs through holes in his tattered jacket. The only sound to be heard was the clip clop clip clunk of his battered and mismatched shoes. Christmas meant nothing to this boy; his only thought was where to make his next sale to get money to survive another night. Street after street there was no one. Scrutinizing every alleyway, searching every hideaway, he saw no one. The moon was high in the sky and cast an eerie light down upon the sidewalk in the places where the streetlights did not reach.
Another gust of wind chilled the boy. The air was so cold that he feared it might freeze solid and leave him as a fossil. He wondered what the people who found him would think. Shelter was his only thought; he had to find a place to stay. As he passed row upon row of empty buildings, he wondered if the act of breaking into one of them would justify itself. He might be a wanderer, a dealer, but he was no crook. Whatever shred of human decency he still possessed was clutched deep in his heart by an iron fist.
He hit a rock and stumbled. There was absolutely no sense of feeling left in his feet. If he walked off the end of the earth, he wondered if he would notice? He had to stop; soon he would be reduced to crawling. A tiny alcove in the side of the building seemed to offer at least some protection from the chill wind. He settled down on the ground, pulling his scarce clothing tightly around him. Blowing on his hands, he could feel slight warmth return to them. This was no way to spend Christmas, he mused. Christmas should be spent with a family, music playing and children laughing. There should be a Christmas tree with presents piled to the ceiling and turkey roast from the oven.
As he was daydreaming a package fell out of his pocket. He picked it up off the ground and stared at it. Suddenly, he couldn't think of a single reason to keep that package unopened anymore. There were sure to be no customers tonight, and it was just going to waste in his pocket. Maybe he could at least pretend to have a Christmas. He pulled out one of the slim, wrapped packages, and fumbled for his lighter. Taking a long drag, he felt the drug course through his veins. Getting high was the only escape for him, the only escape from this prison of the streets. His mind began to wander. His thoughts of Christmas became a vision. There was a family sitting around a Christmas tree. The tree was decked out in thousands of lights, each one shone like a tiny star. Popcorn and berries were a beaded necklace. Silver and gold ornaments sparkled in the candlelight. Beneath the tree, there was a pile of presents. Big ones, little ones, some with gold ribbon, some with giant red bows, and even a few sprinkled with glitter were spread over the floor. The boy began to imagine what was inside each box. Toys, games, beautifully made clothing, shoes….
As he took the last puff, the vision faded from his eyes. He returned to the dank, gray chill of the night. He looked around, gazing at his surroundings. His mind thought "Why not?" As he reached into his pocket. Maybe the vision would return….
This time, he was in the kitchen. The air was humming from all the activity. An old woman was stirring something on the stove; a young man was slicing vegetables on the counter. The refrigerator door was open and an unidentified arm was handing off items to a young girl, who then scurried across the floor, relaying them to another woman standing at the table. The boy took a sniff, and a myriad of scents flooded his nose. The yeasty smell of fresh baked bread, spice from the roasted ham, the smell of fresh potatoes and vegetables, and the aroma of apple cider mingled with the array of spicy scents floating around the room to create a feast for the nose.
His hand moved of its own accord to light up the next when the second smoke was extinguished. In the vision, he moved on to the dining room, where enough tables and chairs were crammed in to seat an army. Aunts and uncles nimbly avoided the little ones running around at their feet while discussing their own affairs. A boy in a rumpled jacket and a little girl with an untied hairbow ran around and around the table legs. In the background, the soft strums of a Christmas guitar gave the entire room a subtle glow. Mistletoe was hung from the ceiling in every corner, and a loving couple "accidentally" found themselves directly under one.
The boy was looking at this scene with a mixture of wonder and awe, when a man turned around from the table and addressed him. "Why don't you join us?" the man asked. "We'd love to have you at our party, just step into the room." He held out his hand, a warm smile on his face. The boy suddenly felt like he could step into the vision. This was where he belonged on Christmas, with a family that loved him. The entire room turned around now, all chanting in unison "Come on, join us. Join in our fun. Just step into our world and all will be well."
The boy felt himself rise up from his sitting position. Yes, he would join them. No more cold, no more fear and hunger and pain, just love and good spirits. He took a step forward. They beckoned him even more. He took another step, another. He started running as his joints lost their frozen feeling. Closer and closer he got, leaving his world of cold and concrete for the world of love and cheer. One more step, then he would take the man's hand. One more step, he thought, and I will be home.
The sun rose bright and early to greet the new Christmas morn. Whistling as he walked, an elderly man returned home from Mass. He saw a shadow sticking out of an alcove, and he stopped to see what it was. There, in the corner on the pavement, lay a young boy frozen solid, with a lighter in his hand, and a radiant smile on his face.
