A Christmas Worth Every Penny

After lying awake for hours, George Henry could hardly contain his excitement. He sprung out of bed with acute silence, careful not to wake his sleeping wife. He swiftly tiptoed to the kitchen, certain to avoid anything that would make noise. He opened his favorite window and let the cold winter air sting his nose and throat. But the winter air was different today, it came with anxious anticipation and child-like exhilaration. For it was Christmas morning and George had a plan. He had intentionally gone without lunch for two years to save up for this very day. After consuming the fresh air, he scurried to the closet adjacent to the front door. He put on his boots and cap with fervor. His favorite coat was next as visions of surprise on his wife's face danced in his mind. He gently pulled the front door open then closed as he exited. The bleak air chilled his hands and face immediately but that wouldn't stop George. He took one step with determination into the newly-born dawn-lit day as he heard a voice. This voice was familiar and much used. "Ah, good morning George! And Merry Christmas!" George turned his gaze to the jolly-bearded man he knew well. Mr. Michaels stood almost six feet tall and had a slight slouching posture. He sipped a glass of orange juice and could usually be seen this early letting his German Snouser out. "Merry Christmas Mr. Michaels." George whispered, fearing the volume of his voice would wake his wife. "George, what perfect timing. It seems the old beast has ripped my newspaper to pieces again," he pointed to his dog, "and I believe a page has landed in your garden. Will you fetch it for me?" George chuckled softly and scanned the garden. Sure enough, a page had found it's way into a selection of shrubs separating their yards. Remembering his mission this morning, he quickly picked it up and held it toward Mr. Michaels. As he did, an Ad on the page caught his eye. Many hearty hams filled the page and it appeared that Mr. Michaels had circled the cheapest one with a pencil. Mr. Michaels shuffled over, careful to not release his weak grip on the dog leash. "Thank you ever so much George." He said loudly. George flinched at the noise and started again on his hasty walk. "I must go now, have a good day." He quietly delivered over his shoulder.

He continued his journey in brisk strides, observing the hands of his pocket watch along the way. In little time, he had made it to the town square. George loved to see the decorations and the festivities that put the atmosphere in motion. Many of the stores and markets were closed and had holiday signs hinting at the reason. Few people roamed the snowy streets but again, something caught his eye. He watched intently as a single mother and two children walked past an open Christmas tree market. At first, he thought it wise for the store to be making some last-minute sales, but his focus fixed again on the small family. One of the woman's young daughters reached longingly at a perfect pine Christmas tree and cried intensively. The mother looked distraught and pulled her children along by their hands. George frowned. He slipped his chilled hand into the pocket of his coat and thumbed through the stack of folded bills. He glanced down the street. His destination was in sight. He shifted his vision back to the tree market and the struggling family was already gone. He wrestled with himself but continued his strides on the icey pathway to "paradise." It didn't take long for him to discover another peculiar scene. He approached an old Hispanic market he had passed so many times before. As he got closer, he noticed a man balancing precariously on a rusty ladder. It was obvious that he had been painting this small brick building. George stopped for a minute and examined the older man in overalls and a t-shirt. He was shivering and looking into an empty paint bucket. He appeared to be searching frantically for any drops of paint with a well-weathered paint brush. Only half the market was painted. "Working on Christmas day?" George inquired. The shaking man looked down and they met eyes. "My familiá... my familiá..." The man replied in thick Spanish. "I'm not sure what that means," George hesitated, "you know sir, you should be inside. You look cold." He reported. The man looked at George a little longer and then went back to searching for paint. "W...well, you be careful okay? And Merry Christmas." Gerorge blurted uncomfortably. He returned to his venture, letting his mind wander back to how much time he had spent since leaving his cozy home, then he quickened his pace. Not long after starting the internal race, he found himself a countable amount of steps from the automobile car lot. He had passed it every day for years on the way to work and this Christmas, he would finally buy a brand new automobile for him and his wife. He peered into the plexiglas windows of the lot and carefully matched the number of bills in his pocket with the number booming on all the signs of the building. He glanced around and pictured him and his wife driving the streets freely and even warmly this season. His vision was interrupted with reality as he spotted a young man trying to patch a tire on his bicycle, a woman in torn clothes sleeping near the park, and another young man pacing the streets searching through tears with an empty wedding ring box in his hand. George looked back at the plexiglas window but couldn't see the car anymore. All he could see was his own reflection. He studied it in shame. He still held the money in his hand as he casted his mind to all the people he had passed obliviously. Tears filled his eyes. He had always dreamed of the leather seats, adjustable windows, refillable gas tanks, shining headlights, and loads of space for storage. But in this time of silent reflection, he realized what he had really gone without lunch for. For a replacement wedding ring, for new clothes and a blanket, for a new bicycle tire, for a coat and more paint, for a Christmas tree, and for a hearty Christmas ham for Mr. Michaels. He hadn't seen the real reason he woke up so excited and eager to venture out, but he did now.

After finding the few shops that were open and exchanging warm hugs with those he retraced his steps back to, he waddled home with empty pockets. He held a bouquet of sunflowers under one arm and a Christmas ham under the other. He beamed with joy as he bounced back, but failed to restrain some feelings of disappointment combat his overall cheery attitude at the thought of his wife's reaction now. George swiftly slipped past Mr. Michael's house, it was evident that he had gone inside now. Then, taking a deep breath, he sneaked back through the doors of his own quiet home. While undressing from his coat, a sudden movement startled him. His wife had awoken. She looked into his eyes with a loving gaze and smiled. "You're up early," she teased, "Merry Christmas George." He smiled at her and looked down at the sunflowers. His happy grin dissolved quickly and tears stung his eyes. "I...I saved up for two years to—" She stepped closer and embraced him warmly. "I know George. I love you so much. I know the type of man you are." He returned the hug and whimpered silently. "I just wanted to buy you a car." She buried her face in his shoulder and matched his tears with happy ones. "It's exactly what Jesus would do." She gently reminded him. "You are just like Him." She hugged him more tightly now. He lowered his arms and then handed her the colorful flowers. She accepted them and then wiped the tears from his eyes. "Sunflowers are my favorite." She said. "It was worth every penny." George replied. She delightfully giggled and they met eyes. "Tell me all about it." She suggested in wonder. "Okay," he said, the smile returning to his face. He revealed the large ham he had brought home, "but first, let's go see Mr. Michaels."

-Cale Kenneth Montoya (12-22-21)