Post by singerboy on Dec 14, 2008 18:05:56 GMT -5
The Miracle
BY SINGERBOY
"Go see Santa, Kristin." My mother said to my little sister. Kristin ran up to the jolly old man sitting in the glamorized chair. She jumped onto the knee of the man and looked at his with a gleam in her eyes that gave her the look as if she just saw the face of God. Kristin reluctantly tore her gaze to the not so happy elf holding a camera. Her golden locks seemed to lighten as she smiled joyfully to the camera. A sudden flash brightened her face and then she hastily turned to Santa, waiting for him to ask the question.
Santa looked at her and somewhat sincerely smiled back at her. "What would you like for Christmas this year Kristin?" said Santa in an overly rehearsed, dry and emotionless voice.
"I want my dad to be alive again." Said Kristin without pause or thought. Santa Clause looked at her bewildered and flabbergasted, unsure of how to respond. Mom looked shocked and hurt. As for me, I couldn't believe what I heard. My jaw dropped momentarily and shot right back up.
"Kristin, ask for something else!" I said, trying to hide the sadness in my voice.
"But that's all I want." Kristin looked confused and quickly changed her expression from ecstatic to depressed. Tears started to form in her eyes and she let out a few whimpers. Everyone began to look around and see why this child was weeping on the lap of Jolly Old Saint Nick. But this mall Santa didn't seem to care. He looked at the crying girl with passion in his eyes and wiped a tear from the child's pale cheek.
"I'll see what I can do." He comforted the child. Mom was completely furious. She couldn't control herself. Mom marched over to Santa Clause to get her child, dragging me along.
"Thanks Santa!" Squealed Kristin, embracing the red man with a heartfelt hug.
"Take your sister!" Ordered my mother, steaming with anger. Her face turned red, which made her look extremely odd as her straight platinum blonde hair rested against her rose-colored face. She pointed her index finger at him, which I know meant real business. "I don't know who you think you are, but you can't just make a promise like that to a little girl!"
"I was just trying to make her Christmas a little better."
"Well how do you think she'll feel tomorrow when she wakes up and her dead is still dead? Did you think of that?" The Santa said nothing. "I didn't think so." Mom marched out of the mall dragging my sister right behind her.
The car ride home was completely awkward. The roar of the engine, the sloshing of the tires on the pavement, and the tricking Christmas music from the radio was the only sound to be heard on the way home. Mom was still fuming and Kristin was playing with her dolls in the back seat. I looked out the window. As I watched the once pure white snow now dirtied by the Christmas Eve traffic, I couldn't help but think of dad.
I still remember the day he left for the war. It was in June three years ago. I was thirteen I think, and Kristin was three or four. Mom was crying and I was trying to act cool. He made his rounds giving hugs and he was walking over to me, his combat boots clunked as he moved getting ready for our embrace. Dad put his arms around me and I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. He looked at me with water streaming down his face. "Don't worry. I'll be home before you know it."
Go forward to last Christmas. We woke in the morning to a snow-covered ground, eating cookies and presents under the tree. We did the usual Christmas things. You know, open presents and stuff. There was a knock at the door and all of us shot up at once and hurried through the slim hallway then to the door. We'd been expecting dad since he'd sent us presents and a letter two weeks ago. He said he'd be home on Christmas day, but sent us our presents in case his plane was late or he had to stay for a few more days. However, dad made us promise not to pen the presents until he got home.
Anyway, we opened th door expecting to get hugs and kisses from our father, but instead we received the worst new in the world. General Chenoweth was standing in our door way and asked to come in. Mom moved out of his way and began to cry instantly, she already knew before he said a thing. General Chenoweth looked at me with pity in his eyes and told us that our father and six other troops were victims to a surprise attack. They never recovered my father's body, but assumed he'd died with the others. A week later we buried an empty casket in honor of my father.
"Robert, are you all right?" My mom asked standing in my doorway. When we got home from the mall, I went to my room and started reading a novel I needed to finish by the time school started again.
"Yeah mom, I'm fine."
"Robert Menzel, I do believe you are lying to me."
"Mom I'm fine, I just want to be alone and finish my homework."
"Okay. Do you want hot chocolate or anything?"
"No, I'm fine. Thanks."
"Well don’t' stay up late honey. Good night."
"Night mom." She walked out of my room and shut the door behind her. I set down my book and walked to my closet and went through some boxes. There it was, a small box wrapped in brown packaging paper. On the paper was dad's crude doodle of a snowman in a winter wonderland setting. I sat down observing it. There was a card on the side of it reading; To Robby, Love Dad. I clutched the box tightly debating on opening it. I grabbed a corner and started to tear it, but I stopped. "I'm not ready."
In the morning I awoke cradling the package in my arms. I climbed out of bad and stretched my stiff legs. Mom and Kristin were already awake and downstairs opening little gifts. I struggled down the stairs with wobbling legs and entered the livingroom, wiping sleep from my eyes. "Merry Christmas!" Mom said smiling.
"Merry Christmas," I replied but was interrupted by a knock on the door. My heart sank at the sound. Was I dreaming? Dad can't die twice, can he? Mom looked confused and I waked to the door with the girls close behind me. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to shoot out of my chest. I grabbed the cold metallic handle and pulled. I couldn't believe my eyes.
"Dad!" I screamed. I then leaped into his arm and gave him the tightest hug I could possibly give.
"Merry Christmas Robby!"
"But how?" I asked looking at him. He smiled and glanced up at the sky. Mom squealed with excitement and disbelief while Kristin laughed and jumped around.
"Thank you Santa!" She screamed at the top of her seven-year-old lungs.
Dad held my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. A single brown curl hung in front of his right eye. "I'll tell you later."
"Okay dad." I said looking into his gaze.
Suddenly a violent jolt caused Daniel to fall to the floor from his top bunk. I can't believe how real the dream was, he thought to himself. I actually thought I was my son! He looked around slowly watching his visions of falling snow melt into the hot dessert sand. The boom of bombs and firing guns shattered the sound of his son's voice. Daniel Menzel sat on the warm ground in shock as the other soldiers around him scurried outside to the heart of combat.
Daniel sighed as the sorrow of war engulfed him. He grabbed the family portrait he hid under his stiff mattress. Caressing the faces of his family members, he felt the burning tears in his eyes. He then closed his eyes as salty tears ran down his face, and he said a silent prayer. He prayed for his safety and the comfort for his family in this time of need.
Suddenly everything turned quiet. The sound of gunshots and screaming ceased. A group of soldiers walked in and set down their guns. Relief was painted across their faces as they realized that the battle had ceased. They shot glances at him for not fighting, but soon they forgot about it as they fell into a deep slumber.
Daniel Menzel overcome with emotion began writing a letter to his family by flashlight. The letter said he was safe and would be home by Christmas. As he signed his name, a smile spread across his face. He thought to himself, this will be perfect to mail the family with the Christmas gifts for his kids.
© Singerboy Inc.
