I woke on the chilliest of a winter’s morn’- collect’d my thoughts, as I set my cup of tea to seep & simmer and looked on at my daily ledger; Why ‘tis the 25th of December, the day which marks the birth of our Lord! On such a day crowned with glory to adore brotherhood towards man, I regret to inform, that my holiday had been displaced. Where had the child that bid such chorus in me, escaped?- The child who once danced to the light of the trees, upon a charmed Christmas day?
Ah!- The absence which hover’d within my gate, was due to a spirit, which had lost her way! Today shall be the day, I so proclaim a gift to oneself; and with that I set forth to find the spirit which I had misplaced…
~
I buttoned up my cloak, and wrapped my stow tight- Opened the latch-hook to my door to welcome winter, and find the image I still so fondly remembered. Past my postal port, on the road that leads to the trains, over the tracks, and down a well worn path, my intentions are to return to the grange. For ‘tis been ages since my steps had compassed this way, to my recollection ‘twas the land where I once skipped with laughter, and played.
The grange was sternly silent- and the only company present was the characters posed within the black stilts of the trees, and a dozen dubious eyes speckling the brush, belonging to burrowed mountain bunnies. Altho’ the solitude held presence, a sound most surely could be heard; the echoing spin of ice-laden winds, and the carol of seasonal birds.
All to my gaze beheld a blanket of heavenly white, except for the shadows which stretched to caress the snow with blue- and for a moment I could swear, I was followed to this pass, by the young child which I once knew!
I set my rhythm forward, each step creating a new stone, and my heart began to dance in a rapture of suspense, to the gay sound which plunged beneath my soles. The crunch underfoot almost squeaked- and a giggle suddenly imposed!- From where, or why this elation arose is not of matter, only the joy of remembrance of a Christmas that I once owned. I must be close to finding that spirit of the past, for the world before me was now awoke to a tune, as if time itself, had reset a forgotten hourglass.
The clue appeared quite suddenly, so suddenly in fact, I held my gasp! For perched above on a tree fringed with evergreen, a cardinal had crossed my path! I know upon first gaze ‘twas more than a painted sparrow, with a twig clasped between her beak; but truly a messenger placed here per my request, to redeem the ghost to which I seek, and the twig in actuality- was really a berried mistletoe wreath!
I call out to the angel, carefully wording my inquire- ‘Excuse me, O’ fairest of raven’s rose heart, but if you could be so kind as to direct me to discover merriment upon her throne, I shall repay your efforts abundantly, with a smile of purest grace, to illuminate your flight back home.’
O’ how the branch she decorated bounced so, when she bound forth into that icy sky, that snow rained down from the bough in a veil of glistening white- gold upon the forest floor!- And I clamored quickly in pursuit, as so the angel of blushing hue should not elude, the resolution to my lore!
Beauty then began to descend, as powdered whispers fell curiously from the holiday sky. Swirling like cotton clovers, skating within the winds’ playful tides. Yes, I was twirling about, allowing the etched tokens to melt kisses upon my cheeks- remembering timeless laughter; remembering the youth I so beseeched. For a moment I felt like a pawn captured, in this land where wonderment so lavishly flowed, that I had lost site of my winged- director, and the quest for which I homed.
The falling wisps then fell faster to and fro’, and the wind began to swiftly swing! White was blinding my sights to push forward, and continue to search for the spirit which Christmas brings! I called out to the cardinal queen, and attempted to hurry my pace, but winter retained my efforts, as I fell to my knees, and began to pray...
‘Shall I surrender Father, to elude the daughter who hides? The daughter who courted you O’ Lord, the child I have buried inside. Will I ever find marriage with the spirit you so divinely chosen to accompany me?- Or shall I accept absence, and inherit understandings thro’ mans’ empty luxury?’
~
With my fate accepted, I then rose, turning back to the path from which I came- when suddenly I heard the distant sound of bells toll most triumphant, calling out to me by name! The obligation I must follow became clear, as this journey to recover my spirit, I must complete. I dusted the winter off my cloak front, and continued my course of relief.
The bells rang out louder with every step I placed, and the melody, a rhapsody of holiest earth-bound thunder! Atlast breathless, I had reached my searching place; an arbor birthing winter flowers, and an open vine clothed gate aflutter.
A Christmas village lay within, just beyond my readied steps; complete with lanterns aflame, and swags on every post with decodant holly. Children ran amok on pearl painted cobblestone, and the air held the sweetest scent of freshly baked barley. For I was convinced that I had stumbled upon such a town built of fine treasure- to view such a land with ignorance of discourse, which harbors such hospitable gesture.
Altho’ this resort embraced attentions to charm, my pursuit to locate my lost spirit remained un-claim. For ‘tis my belief that true joy is not only to dwell in such light; but to possess the wick which feeds the flame!
On this note, my messenger reappeared- swooping down in a gracious trace. She circled my startled presence once, then landed on the most respectful of Christmas array!
‘Twas a tree of such majestic statue every branches flickered with tiny lantern stoves. Ribbons swayed within the breeze, laced with golden stitch, and beside every pinecone tower, was the companion of a rose! Beads made from most precious seeds, looped to cascade like rubies bathed in a fountain. Silver streams swept down in a mass of strings, as if bewitched upon this Christmas mountain!
I approached the tree, unable to blink- struck by the view which astounded me so- when from a fleeting glimpse of my eye, a childhood spirit flashed to the other side, of the most magnificent tree I have ever encountered! At that moment the cardinal took flight, after that spirit so free- following her to the other side! I hurried around to find what I so seeked, as to capture the ‘who’ or the ‘what’ in which I pined so painfully to still be. However, I searched high and low for the child I once owned, but on the other side stood only- the tree!
~
A rasping cough clattered, and I lent my ear in close. The choking decree seemed to be escaping from beneath, as I knelt down to find the host. There underneath, set against the tree, was a man keeping sheltered from the cold. I assumed he was a pauper without a home as he looked at me quite gray, and I proposed he had been struck ill with melancholy fate- on such a blessed day.
His face was rugged and worn. His lips chapped and cracked, as he attempted to smile. I wondered of his past, I wondered of his spirit- child. Garments fell displaced on his arms covered with soot. No gloves covered his hands, and only one boot on his foot. Within his hand he clenched an old empty can- empty on Christmas day. A day where peace and giving are said to rule the land, and every miracle bid will find grace.
I filled his cup to the brim with clanking riches, removed my mittens, and unwrapped my stow. I covered him gently to fight off the chill, for I am sure these are tidings he does not own. He braced my arm softly, and then began to speak-
‘My dear, today you are my Christmas angel bringing strength, to an old gentlman who has fallen weak. When I woke today, I thought m’dear, will Christmas remember me? Then like a spirit you appeared, with a smile so beautiful and free- you my angel have washed away my tears, and brought me such a gift of relief. Listen.- Can you hear the bells toll? Do you dance within the snow which paints the trees? Can you see the child of yesterdays wonder? Do you feel the moments of a lost breeze? Look deeper m’dear within this old mans’ eyes; past the hours which scorned, past the sands of theiving time. See not what is before you in flesh, but that which dwells within the bells forgotten chime.’
I held his hand to me close, as I looked into his tear swept eyes, ‘twas that moment in which I realized- that I had found my Christmas ghost. For as I stared into his eyes, ’twas my own reflection I came to see, and that my lost spirit had come home, because when we give, ’tis only then- that we may truely receive.
