A Christmas Gift
"What do you get the man who has everything and wants nothing?" asked the Son, the Saturday before Christmas.
His sisters looked up from their respective ipads
"Socks?" suggested sister number one.
"Are we talking about Father?" asked sister number 2. Son nodded. "Then I can't help you."
"What did you get him?" Son asked curiously, hoping for inspiration.
"Not telling you. It would spoil the surprise."
Son sighed. He had no idea what to buy Father for Christmas. He wanted to get something special.
Father didn't really like the opera or music, ballet or theatre, so tickets to a performance were out. He hated dressing up in his best clothes so cufflinks and tiepins were also not an option. Besides, Uncles and Aunts weighed in with those, when they were stuck for ideas. Father had boxes of the things he never wore. He had enough ties and socks and, besides, those things were so impersonal.
"What about his best friend's autobiography?" said sister number two helpfully.
"Is it out yet?" asked Son eagerly.
"He's already got it," said sister number one apologetically. "Max sent him an advance copy, signed. He keeps it in his Box of Special Things with his medals and other bits and bobs."
"He didn't tell us," protested sister number two.
Sister number one shrugged his shoulders. "He didn't tell anyone. I was just there when it arrived. That's the only reason I know about it. If you want to read it, buy your own copy. He won't let you anywhere near his. I tried. I've got one on order."
"It was a good idea," said Son and frowned at the Christmas tree.
Son remained devoid of ideas until Christmas Eve. He went out early and headed towards the main shopping centre. What could he buy?
It seemed that everyone else was doing their last minute Christmas shopping and were laden with bags and boxes. Son eyed them enviously as he wondered around the big stores looking, in vain, for something to buy.
He wondered around aimlessly, hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat, deep in thought. He was so engrossed, he almost fell over the young girl sitting outside one of the big clothing shops, shivering on the pavement.
"Oh I'm sorry," apologised Son immediately.
The girl looked up at him. She looked very young. Too young.
"Have you got anywhere to stay?" he asked her.
She eyed him suspiciously and shook her head.
Son looked around. "Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Come on then. We can go somewhere warm and work out what to do."
The girl didn't speak but huddled into the doorway. Son looked at her and then blushed as he realised what she was thinking.
"Oh, no. I didn't mean it like that. I'll go and get you a tea."
The coffee shop two doors up provided him with two cups of tea to take away. Son looked around at the charity boxes as he waited for his order. One was for a housing charity. He memorised the phone number and picked up his order. He moved to a vacant table and took out his mobile phone.
Ten minutes later he took the drinks outside. The girl was still where he'd left her. He handed her the drink and leaned against the wall next to her.
"I can find you somewhere to stay," he said conversationally. "There's a charity. They'll provide you with a bed and food and help you get somewhere proper to live. I can take you there if you like. You don't have to come with me," he added. "I can just tell you where it is."
She looked at him. "Why?" she asked.
"Because it's Christmas." And, he thought suddenly, Father would have done the same. "Are you coming?"
***************
On Christmas morning, amongst his gifts, Father opened a grubby white envelope. Inside was a Christmas card.
"Dear Father
"I bought a bed for a homeless person. It seemed like something you would want."
Son
His sisters looked up from their respective ipads
"Socks?" suggested sister number one.
"Are we talking about Father?" asked sister number 2. Son nodded. "Then I can't help you."
"What did you get him?" Son asked curiously, hoping for inspiration.
"Not telling you. It would spoil the surprise."
Son sighed. He had no idea what to buy Father for Christmas. He wanted to get something special.
Father didn't really like the opera or music, ballet or theatre, so tickets to a performance were out. He hated dressing up in his best clothes so cufflinks and tiepins were also not an option. Besides, Uncles and Aunts weighed in with those, when they were stuck for ideas. Father had boxes of the things he never wore. He had enough ties and socks and, besides, those things were so impersonal.
"What about his best friend's autobiography?" said sister number two helpfully.
"Is it out yet?" asked Son eagerly.
"He's already got it," said sister number one apologetically. "Max sent him an advance copy, signed. He keeps it in his Box of Special Things with his medals and other bits and bobs."
"He didn't tell us," protested sister number two.
Sister number one shrugged his shoulders. "He didn't tell anyone. I was just there when it arrived. That's the only reason I know about it. If you want to read it, buy your own copy. He won't let you anywhere near his. I tried. I've got one on order."
"It was a good idea," said Son and frowned at the Christmas tree.
Son remained devoid of ideas until Christmas Eve. He went out early and headed towards the main shopping centre. What could he buy?
It seemed that everyone else was doing their last minute Christmas shopping and were laden with bags and boxes. Son eyed them enviously as he wondered around the big stores looking, in vain, for something to buy.
He wondered around aimlessly, hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat, deep in thought. He was so engrossed, he almost fell over the young girl sitting outside one of the big clothing shops, shivering on the pavement.
"Oh I'm sorry," apologised Son immediately.
The girl looked up at him. She looked very young. Too young.
"Have you got anywhere to stay?" he asked her.
She eyed him suspiciously and shook her head.
Son looked around. "Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Come on then. We can go somewhere warm and work out what to do."
The girl didn't speak but huddled into the doorway. Son looked at her and then blushed as he realised what she was thinking.
"Oh, no. I didn't mean it like that. I'll go and get you a tea."
The coffee shop two doors up provided him with two cups of tea to take away. Son looked around at the charity boxes as he waited for his order. One was for a housing charity. He memorised the phone number and picked up his order. He moved to a vacant table and took out his mobile phone.
Ten minutes later he took the drinks outside. The girl was still where he'd left her. He handed her the drink and leaned against the wall next to her.
"I can find you somewhere to stay," he said conversationally. "There's a charity. They'll provide you with a bed and food and help you get somewhere proper to live. I can take you there if you like. You don't have to come with me," he added. "I can just tell you where it is."
She looked at him. "Why?" she asked.
"Because it's Christmas." And, he thought suddenly, Father would have done the same. "Are you coming?"
***************
On Christmas morning, amongst his gifts, Father opened a grubby white envelope. Inside was a Christmas card.
"Dear Father
"I bought a bed for a homeless person. It seemed like something you would want."
Son
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