Angel

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a little girl received an angel decoration for Christmas. She couldn’t remember who was it that gave it to her, or on what Christmas Eve that was, but every year since she would look at the little angel and make a wish.

Years went by and the little girl entered the grown-up world: she married, moved, had children, became a teacher, got a home, celebrated and cried, kept long-standing friendships and aged.

Her children grew up and went on to live their own lives. She attended their college graduations and weddings and the births of grandchildren. Her hair turned gray and her skin wrinkled.

Christmas rolled in again, busy and hurried as it does every year, with a million little urgent errands to run. The grandchildren had asked to decorate the tree at grandma’s house, and for this event, a very dusty tin box came down from the attic.

As she raised the lid, gleams of old gold reflected the tree lights, and one treasure after another came out, to the absolute delight of the grandchildren.

In the hassle of adult life, one forgets the pure happiness and curiosity of childhood, when all things seem at the same time miraculous and possible.

She thought she had already emptied the box and was about to put it away when her hand touched the little angel.

Memories of herself as a little girl eyeing the tree from behind the stair rail poured down on her in an instant. She always wanted to catch a glimpse of Santa when he put gifts under the tree in the quiet house filled with the aroma of candied fruit and Christmas cookies.

The little girl she used to be smiled broadly and made a wish. What wish that was? How can you ask? Every boy and girl knows that if you tell a wish, it doesn’t come true! All I can say is that when one grows older, one gets to wish for a lot more people than oneself.

Anyway, she wished it with all her heart and sent it to that wonderful place where all things are possible as the kids fussed about performing very important tree trimming tasks.

Tinsel flying everywhere, giggles, a somewhat stressed cat knocking down little knickknacks as it ran for cover, pin-head lights gleaming softly in a mass of green, snow falling gently.

“Grandma, is Santa real?”

Grandma took a moment to reflect on the feasibility of flying sleighs, reindeer roof landings, chimney flue access, and world coverage in one night, and then said convincingly:

“Why, of course he is, dear! What a thought!”

Photo by Andy Cat on Unsplash