The Gift

The Gift

By – Roger White

Each year, there is moment when I must sit alone in the dark dread of a cold winter night before I gather with family in the glow of a toasty fireplace. It is a moment that lies between the worlds of daily habit and quiet solitude; a fleeting allusion that will pass me by unless I perceive its import and clutch within my intellect and soul its essence to living.

Sitting on the step of the front porch, I embrace all that man and Mother Nature mingle together to hold the night. From behind me, the church bells peal in soft tenor their version of ‘Silent Night’. A faint wind lifts powdery snow. Like a white ribbon of silk, it meanders across the sidewalk, comes to rest on a drift and waits for Spring.

Two cardinals flutter beneath the streetlights and settle on the branch of a tree. They perch for a moment, then disappear into their snug nest of twigs and leaves. A rabbit scurries over a glittering white crust reminiscent of Mom’s divinity. He stops and nibbles on a tuft of brown grass jabbing through the snow, then hops off into the night.

The once faint wind has stiffened and grown colder. My eyes blur with watery tears and my face feels the frosty bite of the air. These crackly fingers grasp the porch railing and the church bells chime ‘The First Noel’. I turn to enter the house and hear voices gay and giddy with light laughter and carols being sang out of tune by little children. The Christmas tree is a cascade of bubbling lights with a hill of unwrapped gifts under its branches. I open the door and am met by the warm aroma of sugar and cinnamon, spiced eggnog and dark rum.

Filled with the providence of serenity, I enter with joy the noisy living room. My ears ring from song, chatter and laughter. My wife’s soft lips kiss my rosy cheek. Two children announce with a boom…” Grandpa’s back”. I whisper to myself – I never left; I rested, I mingled. For a moment I was between two worlds, and I am a happier man for it.

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