Christmas Done Different

It was Christmas Eve. While the adults ate, the kids played a game with a box of crayons Peter had taught them. It was called What If I Ruled the World? It was a simple concept but a challenging game. A crayon box could represent the countries of the world. I am sure there is a size to accommodate all those countries. Once they figure out that part, the children sort the countries based on their neighbouring countries. The team breaks down the resources into understandable items and begins the game. Once the resources are allocated, bargaining and money become important and whether resources can be enough to bring a country back from the brink.

A man knocked on the front door. The Greenham family had just finished praying and were ready to eat. Pappa furrowed his brow. "Who dares come to a calling at this hour on this night?" "Now, Pappa, easy. It is Christmas Eve. Peter, honey, would you mind getting the door, please?" "Sure, Mom. No problem." He got up to answer the door like his mom asked. "Merry Christmas! How may I help you?" Peter said.

"Please. I'm cold, hungry, tired, and dirty. May I stay here tonight?" The man's hair was so dirty that it looked like straw, and his clothes were grey. His fingernails were thick with dirt, but when Peter saw his eyes and saw that he had no coat and only one shoe, he couldn't say no.

When Peter asked him his name, the man said his name was Thomas. Peter brought him into the kitchen, and everyone jumped up. Before he knew it, he was sitting with a whole place sitting in front of him.

Peter said, "This man's name is Thomas, and he'll join us for the night."

"Excellent, then. I'm Stanley. Get him a glass, and we'll pour him a drink," ordered Peter's dad. No, no, thank you. I don't drink alcohol," Thomas said. Let's get him a cigar from Cuba, then," Pete's father suggested. "I must insist, please. If I am thirsty, I shall call for a drink then. Thank you for your generous offers. I am forbidden to put things into my body that are bad for me. My religion says so."

"How about a tea?" Peter's father joked.

"Yes, that would be lovely; thank you," the man said. Since Peter was watching the scene, Thomas winked at him. Peter figured it out. He understood Thomas had gotten the better of Dad and kept doing it. He found it entertaining.

Dad and Thomas went outside. Dad smoked a cigar while Thomas spoke with him.

"I don't think you like it that I'm here," Thomas said.

"No, not at all. Many homeless guys knock on people's doors on Christmas Eve and ask to sleep over." Peter's dad shook his head. And walked away. "But you should get to know me before you judge me," Thomas yelled. Peter's dad kept on and walked around toward the pool. The old man followed behind but not too closely because he didn't want him to know he was being followed. He watched him throw the ash on the ground and enter the gate.

This was Thomas' moment. He had to make a decision. What to do? Do I take Stanley on or leave him alone? Who's going to know? It'll be months before they catch up with me, and I'll be miles from here. Shit! I gotta get to that gate before it closes.

The gate was on its way to swing shut. Thomas ran to it before Pete's dad reached the pool's end. He just made it. He glued his back to the wall and entered the dark area. The man watched in horror as his father grabbed his chest and plunged into the pool. He came out from hiding and jumped in after Pete's dad. He tried to pull his body up from the bottom of the pool. He surfaced, called for help, and then returned to try to move the dad.

The second time he surfaced, he yelled for Peter and his mother. Peter came to the sliding glass door, ran out, and jumped into the pool. The man did, too. Together, they brought up Peter's dad. Peter initiated CPR. His mother called the ambulance, and they took him to Victoria Hospital. They all made plans about who would go to see him and when. The only one who wasn't included in the plans was Thomas.

The doctors came out and asked to speak with the wife and son. None of the rest of them could tell what his face meant. But, when they heard the cries and the moans, they guessed it wasn't good. Peter returned with tears in his eyes to relay the news of his father's death. Heart attack and not drowning.

The family took home his personal effects and returned home. They all went their separate ways for about two hours; after that, it was meal prep and dining. The place settings were less than yesterday. Gifts sat unopened under the tree. Christmas would never be the same for any of them again.

While eating, Peter said, "I wonder what became of Thomas. " After he showered and said goodbye, I gave him some clothes and a pair of shoes. "Yeah, he told me his work here was done." "He did? Mom, what do you think that means?" "I'm not sure." "Maybe he took Pappa." "If he did where and why?" "Maybe he took him to his afterlife? "I hope so. If that's true, then I can allow myself to have a Christmas. Would you like that?" "Would I?" "Well, I think there are some gifts under the tree for you." "I'll have to pass out all of the gifts." She smiled at the thought of Thomas being a carrier angel and delivering my Stanley to his afterlife. I love that about kids. They take something difficult to understand and explain it in such simple words. And everyone gets it. Maybe they should run the politics of the world?