A warming Christmas story
18 December 2003, 10:10 PM
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It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was loading my car up with gifts that I felt obligated to buy. I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I might need later. So mumbling under my breath, I retraced my steps to the shopping mall entrance.
As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt to protect him from the cold night's chill.
Oddly enough, he was holding a fifty pound note in his hand. Thinking that he had gotten lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong. He told me his sad story.
He said that he came from a large family. He had three brothers and four sisters. His father had died when he was nine years old. His mother was poorly educated and worked two full time jobs. She made very little to
support her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp and save 100 pounds to buy her children Christmas presents. The young boy had been dropped off with 2 fifty pound notes, by his mother, on the way to her second job. He was to use the money to buy presents for all his siblings and save just enough to
take the bus home.
He had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of the 50 pound notes and disappeared into the night. Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked.
The boy said, "I did."
"And nobody came to help you?" I wondered.
The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head.
"How loud did you scream?", I asked.
The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help me..."
I realized then that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for help. Just looking at him he looked so poor and weak and feeble.
So I kicked him in the nuts, grabbed his other 50 and legged it to my car.
As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt to protect him from the cold night's chill.
Oddly enough, he was holding a fifty pound note in his hand. Thinking that he had gotten lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong. He told me his sad story.
He said that he came from a large family. He had three brothers and four sisters. His father had died when he was nine years old. His mother was poorly educated and worked two full time jobs. She made very little to
support her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp and save 100 pounds to buy her children Christmas presents. The young boy had been dropped off with 2 fifty pound notes, by his mother, on the way to her second job. He was to use the money to buy presents for all his siblings and save just enough to
take the bus home.
He had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of the 50 pound notes and disappeared into the night. Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked.
The boy said, "I did."
"And nobody came to help you?" I wondered.
The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head.
"How loud did you scream?", I asked.
The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help me..."
I realized then that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for help. Just looking at him he looked so poor and weak and feeble.
So I kicked him in the nuts, grabbed his other 50 and legged it to my car.
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