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In ye olden days when winter snow fell deep and crisp and even and the eerie sound of the foghorn would petrify you as you lay under layers of bedding in non-centrally heated Council houses, we gangs of kids would hang out together to have fun.
Our idea of fun was simple and free and comprised of games like Hide and Seek, British Bulldogs, rat tat ginger, chain touch and other such delights. It was freezing cold and near christmas and we decided on a game of British Bulldogs (for the uninitiated, it's basically two opposing teams that try to pass each other without getting tackled by the enemy) to warm us up. Our usual play area was the triangular section of grass that was the centerpiece of a number of houses; the grass was our stomping ground for games and meeting up.
The grassy area was overlooked by about 20 families one of whom had a son, Desmond, in his early teens who had suffered oxygen starvation at birth which left him mentally challenged and he always had a sort of vacant, nervous look about him. He would usually watch us throughout the year from his bedroom window; cowering out of sight behind the curtains whenever he was spotted by us kids who treated him to the usual taunts because we were ignorant like that. Desmond had protruding ears and were the main target of the jibes thrown his way.
Well anyway, imbibed with the christmas spirit (no, not alcohol, we were excited about crimbo), I decided to knock on the door and ask if Desmond could come out and play for once. His elderly parents looked aghast (their experience of us was that we were foul-mouthed urchins which was a fair assessment btw) but they relented when Desmond appeared at the top of the stairs frantically pulling on a woolly jumper. They fussed over him, adding a zipper jacket, a scarf and a bobble hat pulled down over his ears. A pair of mittens and Desmond was finally allowed out.
I cannot describe sheer joy but I have seen it on Desmond's face. He ran and played in utter glee until his mum and dad called him in just in case he "gets too out of breath". Desmond was also asthmatic. As he went in he was beside himself with excitement, telling his parents what he had done and pointing at us one by one as his friends. He waved to us and the door was shut.
As christmas got nearer, we gathered again on our grass. A smiling Desmond watched from his room as his almost reclusive parents called us over. They thanked us for allowing Desmond to play and we were perplexed to see them in tears; we shrugged as we left; none of us appreciating the reasons for such a display of emotion.
Without realising it, we had given them a priceless christmas gift. Their son had played with all the other kids and he was happy. Santa had visited early.
The jibes we used to make stopped in unspoken agreement. Our gift in return was that we learned a lesson in humanity that day.
Christmas is a special time. The best gifts like your time, your love and your friendship can't be bought at the shops but they are the ones that carry the greatest value.
Give freely and have a great christmas.
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Originally Posted by TAKTAK
