Elizabeth Young

Traveling Through Christmas

            Snow-covered windowsills, trees, and rooftops. Tiny white lights blinking through bare tree branches shaking in the wind.

            Bright reds, greens, silver and gold, the colors that add warmth to this winter season. Outside everything had closed up, inside everything had opened up, wherever a warm light welcomed.

            In the dark night air, legends of woodland spirits living in evergreens seem to grow more real the longer one stays outside and listens to the whispering sounds of the forest.

            Mistletoe with bright red berries hangs above one doorway. Over another hangs three gilded balls, while pine leaves rest atop a third.

            Peering through thin branches at another house, the shadow of a strange old woman stoops over a bedpost beside a window where a child lies resting contentedly . . . La Befana? . . . babouschka? . . . Searching for the Christ Child?

            A gust of wind from behind, the pages turn.

            Two shadows move away from a different house, one carrying a sack, another, a rod, and leaving a small trail of hay behind them.

            Looking closely, the tiny white specks on top of the hay do not melt. At the touch of one, they feel solid and warm . . . sugar!

            Did that mean the children of the house would now find nuts and candy stuffed inside their shoes that morning?

            Another gust of wind, the pages turn again.

            More shadows surround a huge trunk of a tree, richly decorated with brightly colored ribbons, greenery, and paper flowers.

            Is that a carol of Yuletide blessings echoing throughout the night air?

            Lit candles stand on the tips of tree branches, lighting a new path into the forest where at the end, a small graveyard flickers brightly with its own candles on top of tombstones.

            Small animals of the forest, perched on high branches and appearing to whisper among themselves, peek through pine trees at a large wide window through which a Christmas tree stands majestically, making its presences known, twinkling with baubles, blown-glass crystal bulbs, sparkling tinsel left behind from spiders suddenly scurrying up the wooden walls, and colorful ribbons spiraling across the banister.

            My skin tingles as I raise my eyes.

            Would I now find elves hiding in an attic?

            La Befana, St. Nicholas, the Yule Log, the Christmas tree, what will be next?

            Three stunningly crowned figures suddenly appear silhouetted above a mountaintop.

            Where are they coming from? Who do they seek?

            A magic still swirls within the night air.

            Someone in a manger will be waiting, expectantly.

            Maybe if I follow, I could see what they are about to see.


Alle Rechte an diesem Beitrag liegen beim Autoren. Der Beitrag wurde auf e-Stories.org vom Autor eingeschickt Elizabeth Young.
Veröffentlicht auf e-Stories.org am 04.01.2010.


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