The wood floor was cold under her tiny feet. She woke her younger sisters and watched as they drew back from the cold. Silently, the children crept down the stairs. Turning, they gasped at the magic Santa had brought.
The tree glimmered. It appeared as though tiny fairies with shimmering wings had settled among the Popsicle stick and glitter ornaments. It looked so much more mystical and beautiful than the night before. Boxes with ribbons lay on the ground surrounding the tree, they spread out and climbed up on nearby tables.
The children didn't move. They stared, taken by the wonder. Then with pack instinct, they ran back for the stairs.
Knock, knock, knock! Choruses of "Santa came! Santa left presents! Wake up!" buffeted against the door of their parents’ room. Their mother opened the door. "You go make coffee, Shelby. John, you climb into my bed and wake up Daddy. Vanessa, we have company coming, so pick out a pair of your pajamas."
"Who is coming, Mom?" They wanted to know.
"You'll see." She grinned and walked away with her secret.
The mother found Shelby rattling presents in the living room. "Mom, some of these are for Ayla. When can we bring them to her? Why did Santa bring them here?"
"You'll see." She grinned, "Is my coffee ready?"
The doorbell brought the family running from all over the house. Little Vanessa got to the door first and opened it with childish excitement. "Santa came!" She screamed before she even knew who was there. On the other side of the door, a tall, round woman with a tired face stood next to a small, fragile girl with ebony skin and sad eyes.
"Ayla!" The family crowded the child, hugging and kissing. The girl stared at them solemnly. At two, her parents had died in an accident. By all accounts, they had loved and supported the child and would have created a wonderful family. The girl's eyes were still happy at that time.
She had gone to live with her aunt, a woman trapped in poverty and addiction. For more than four years, the child had been the victim of verbal and physical abuse until she had become a ward of the state. She felt safer now, but her eyes were solemn, and she did not speak. Vanessa attended school with Ayla. The family had come to know then love the child.
Ayla stood on the porch wearing her prettiest dress and her hair in clips.
"Come in," said the father with a smile at the woman and girl.
"Mrs. Atherson, let me take your coat." The mother said, as the door closed again.
"Ayla, your dress is beautiful. Vanessa has pajamas if you would like to be more comfortable, but it is up to you."
Ayla solemnly shook her head. With a smile, the adults let the children bring Ayla into the living room. The paler girls and boy, jumped and ran to the presents, but it was Ayla's turn to stare in wonder.
She stopped walking and just stood with large sad eyes. A tear escaped and slid down her cheek. She turned to the mother, "I remember Christmas." She spoke, as the adults listened, afraid to talk. They were afraid to break the spell.
The fragile child stepped towards the mother, and the mother knelt. Both began crying, and the woman reached her arms to offer solace to the broken-hearted child.
The girl ran, wrapping her arms around the woman. She clung and wept. "I miss my mommy and daddy," she cried in hiccupping gasps. The other children watched. They were afraid and confused at the words and emotion from a child who had never shown either.
"I know, baby," the mother crooned.
The family and Ayla's caseworker waited in the sad tableau. The magic fairy lights of the tree still glistened.
Little Vanessa reached out and picked up a present. She walked it to where her mother knelt with the sobbing child. "Ayla, this one's for you. You can open the first present," she said.
The child turned and took the present. The mother turned and clung to her husband's legs, not yet able to stand.
Carefully, Ayla removed the ribbon. Then, she picked away the tape, set down the box and folded the shiny paper. She looked back at the box, at the doll inside, and she smiled. "Can you open this box?" she asked the father.
"Sure, sweetie." He bent down, stealing a hug from the child, and took the box to open. When, he gave the doll back to the girl, he spoke, "Ayla, we aren't your mommy and daddy, but we love you." He started. "We would really like you to come join our family."
She took the doll, her eyes solemn, and went to join the other kids at the tree.
No comments:
Post a Comment