Saved Christmas

Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts.

Janice Maeditere

When you are completely lonely, you don’t expect a miracle to happen. You simply don’t believe in it. Neither did Margaret. A young girl on a crowded street wearing terrible rags and trembling like a small kitten in front of water. She didn’t believe in miracles. Margaret was slowly wandering through decorated streets of Canterbury which were shining thanks to diverse fires and Christmassy lights. Everything was unbelievably gorgeous. Everything — except Margaret walking astray. She felt that there was no place for such a shabby frump. People felt that, too. Some rich gentlemen in neatly sewn coats and their ladies in aristocratic dresses with lace looked at Margaret pejoratively with wrinkled noses. Some peers in wealthy scholar uniforms laughed and exchanged glances discussing how poor Margaret looked. Others just ignored her. Only stray dogs and stars understood this girl passing a splendid blue house where famous bankers Normans lived. Margaret stopped. This December was horribly cold, and all her strength left frozen and exhausted Margaret. Music, laugh, conversations. In the bankers’ house there was a warm and lovely life. Margaret had only a ruthless and severe one. This Christmas was especially hopeless. The holy night brought no joy to a young girl standing in front of gates to another life. She had no opportunity to enter these gates, though. Wind. Fierce and free wind crashed into a fragile body ready to break. Margaret fell on her knees. Perhaps the time had come. Only despair left in a heart that had been cruelly torn apart. Suddenly, a heavy, majestic door decorated with a wreath opened. “Hey, come in!” a clear voice called, cutting through the night darkness. “There’s no need to freeze here, young lady.” The voice stunned shivering Margaret. It was similar to loud bells’ ringing or birds’ singing. There was a lot of hope in this amazing voice. It belonged to a brightly smiling boy in brown trousers and sloppily tucked-in shirt. His clothes were too thin to stand outside for long dark minutes of a cold night, so the boy was awkwardly shifting and exhaling steam like a dragon. “Don’t be shy, come here!” He called Margaret again. She slowly stood up, still without a clear realization, and moved closer to the huge door. The boy smiled even wider and let her in a small hall where some products and empty boxes were placed. It wasn’t really hot here but, comparing to a frosty and wild street, Margaret felt life-bringing warmth. “Th-th-th-th…” she tried to thank him but her tongue didn’t obey. “You’re welcome!” The boy waved his hand and continued “Sorry, you can’t stay here for a long time but… I will bring you some food!” His eyes lit up with a fantastic idea. “But don’t go anywhere — stay there! Alright?” He inquisitively looked at shy Margaret, who finally started to warm up, and she answered with intense and obedient nodding. The boy almost went away in the moment Margaret quietly asked: “Wh-what is your name, sir?..” He stopped in a funny pose and deftly turned around. “Christopher. Just Christopher, without misters or sirs,” the boy called Christopher grinned. Margaret was embarrassed because of her previous address to him. “And what is your name, young lady?” “I am Margaret,” she mumbled, being shy of the difference between her pretentious name and poor social position. However Christopher didn’t laugh or feel surprised. He only smiled with his crooked teeth and said “Gorgeous. As you are. Well, I’ll be soon, no worries, dear Margaret!” and ran away to another room, which was much more wealthy and luxurious. Margaret left alone in the hall with a fluttering heart. She? Gorgeous? No way! Christopher was too kind! Let her in, promised to bring food, said she was gorgeous… One thought came to Margaret: Christmas was called after this dedicated and generous Christopher. Definitely. While waiting Margaret was listening to muted conversations behind the walls. Apparently, Normans were having a Christmas dinner. Margaret imagined the dishes served on the abundant table: roasted turkey, braised red cabbage, pigs in blankets… There should be mouthwatering and pleasant food as there lived the family of famous bankers! These thoughts made Margaret sad again. Why do people have differences? Can’t they just eat the same food together? Why did Margaret appear on the poor side? But no one could give this girl answers for such questions. “Here it comes, young lady!” Suddenly, Christopher came into the hall, humming a cheerful melody. He was holding a wooden bowl with a cracked edge where there were two roast potatoes and a little bit of turkey meat. On the other hand Christopher gave Margaret a cup of steaming tea. The girl was over the moon to receive such a delightful gift — hot and free food! But the main present was Christopher’s help, of course. “Thank you so much! I have never… I didn’t even dream about…” Margaret’s thoughts were tangled and full of excitement, so the girl couldn’t make a sensible sentence. She almost teared up trying an extremely delicious dish. “It’s my honor, dear lady,” Christopher smiled looking at emotional Margaret. “I’m just a servant with no pounds in my pockets, so I do understand you. And I am really glad to help you this holy night.” Christopher’s eyes were light and bright — Margaret saw distant constellations shining through the utter darkness. His eyes gave her hope for the coming year. “I’m afraid you better go now,” sorrowfully said Christopher, when Margaret had finished eating. “My lords will notice soon.” “Yes, I know… Thank you once again for everything. For hope, especially.” Margaret smiled softly. The girl made the last sip of tea and came to the door, hearing the crackling of her heart. One step — and the magic will disappear. “Oh, I forgot!” exclaimed Christopher. “These are for you, too.” On his hand there were three tiny sweets in a rustling wrapper. Margaret looked at the boy in utter disbelief and shily took the sweets. “You are too kind, Christopher. The world doesn’t deserve you.” she said. “It is so hard to leave now.” “Everything’s alright. Come back tomorrow! I’ll be waiting. And, of course, I will find you something to eat,” Christopher clapped his hands excitedly. Margaret nodded with a happy smile. Then she opened the door to the old, severe world covered with snow and twisted with blaze. One step, the second — she is outside. “Don’t forget the address!” shouted Christopher to block out the noise of wind gusts. “I swear, I won’t. Never! I will return!” Margaret walked backwards because she didn’t want to take her eyes off even for a moment. Winter. Heavy snowfall. And warmth deep inside. “Merry Christmas, young lady!” “Merry Christmas, Christopher!” Margaret sincerely smiled. Now she didn’t care about her shabby appearance, poor social position or others’ opinion. Now it was Christmas. And Christopher who saved it tonight.