A Christmas Tale (published)

I found myself standing alone, as the snow fell gently, Creating a pure white blanket on the asphalt, I was standing on. Looking at the Christmas scene outside St Charles Church, I felt sad that I did not have enough money for Christmas to shop; that I still had to prepare for a four hour exam. As I looked at the empty cradle of Jesus, my sadness increased. “Oh Lord, we have made such a mess of things. Here it is Christmas approaching, and our planet is suffering from global warming, we still fight and kill, in the name of God. The middle class is disappearing and corporations are merging and becoming powerful. The rich are getting richer while our poor are getting poorer. Our governments are deserting us Lord. Please do not give up on us. Please forgive us.” “I am hungry miss?” I turned and found a beggar beside me. I wondered why I had not heard him approaching. He was big framed, with dirty long hair, a fat and heavily pimpled face and a foul smell that not even the cool air could dissipate. His face was so dirty that I could not determine his skin color. His mittens were black and he wore a long woolen brown coat that looked frayed but thankfully warm and he wore heavy worn boots that had seen too many winters. “I am hungry miss.” He repeated with patience. I was holding my submarine sandwich which I had just bought. I had decided to give myself a treat. After all, Christmas was approaching and I deserved something. I had just stopped to admire the Nativity scene. I looked into those sorrowful big brown eyes and saw more sorrow than I could ever bare being reflected back to me. I handed him my submarine and whispered “Merry Christmas.” I didn’t know if wishing him a Merry Christmas was politically correct, but I did not care this evening. I wanted to be free, in my seemingly democratic country to say “Merry Christmas.” What has happened to my city, to my country, to my world? I thought with sadness. I had lowered my head and looked up to see my hobo gone. He had taken my sandwich and I wished him well. I walked back to my old, rusted car in the Church parking lot and unlocked it. There was my submarine sandwich waiting for me. I looked back towards the nativity set and saw the boot prints on the snow from the Nativity area, I had just come from. There was only one set of boot prints this late night that marred the soft blanket of snow.