...que llegando estas fechas, y dado que no sé muy bien lo que haré las dos próximas semanas, os mande una cuento de Navidad, que es muy típico, pero a veces es bueno recordar ciertas cosas.
También me vais a permitir que os lo mande en versión original, que como es Inglés traducido, no creo que tengais problemas para entenderlo. Asi que ¡¡Feliz Navidad a todos!!!
Just A Christmas Tale
I woke up the morning of 24th December with a terrible headache. The night before I had been at a office party and I had drunk so much gin, that my stomach seemed to be a little boat in a big storm.
Really, in those days I hate Christmas: the time of illusion, innocence and peace. I only could see a time of consumism, publicity and egoism. I lost my spirit of Christmas a could morning of December, many years ago, when Barry, my older brother had told me the great secret: “Father Christmas does not exist”.
And, then, suddenly I believed him. It would be impossible to give present to all the children around the world and I fell into the cruel reality of the adults: the world of business.
During the following years our mother asked what we want and bought it. There was no illusion, no innocence and of course there was no peace.
Around five in the evening I went out to buy some food for my lonely dinner. The snow fell softly and the sound of Christmas Carols hammered in my ears while I walked over the snow and didn’t look at the shop-windows. People walked in a hurry buying present and food smiling without reason and wishing each other a Merry Christmas.
Suddenly in front of a big store’s door there was a little girl no older than six with a green summer dress, and an old jumper with big holes and a pair of shoes too big for her. The girl was shivering, while giving little red candles to people saying: “Take a lamp, Sir, and at midnight put it in your window for the peace of the world”.
From the store a boy went out with his mother carrying a lot of boxes with bright colours. He wasn’t older than the girl. He looked at her, turned his eyes to his mother and asked her:
- “Why hasn’t she got a coat, mom?”.
But the mother was too busy to answer him.
The little girl, while she gave me a candle looked with her long green eyes at me, smiled and said:
- “I have asked for a red one to Father Christmas”.
And in those eyes I could see all the innocence and illusion that I use to have when I was a child.
But thinking like an adult while I continued my walk I imagined the disillusion of that girl the next morning when the red coat didn’t appear.
Then, I hear again the little boy talking with his mother.
- “But – he was saying – Father Christmas doesn’t exist, does he?”
- “No, Sean – she answered – I told to you yesterday”.
- “But, but, then, - he continued- that girl, … she won’t have a red coat, could she?”.
- “I don’t know, dear. Do you want a Play station 2 or a game box 360?”
- “ But,…,I think…I can give her my coat, like if I was Father Christmas, It’s not red, but probably she won’t mind, would she?”.
- “Oh!, Sean. Come on!. We’ll arrive late.”
I felt the tears on my face when the car drove away with this boy and the spirit of Christmas inside.
Of course, I went back to the store, bought the nicest red coat I could find and looked for the little girl with the candles. But she wasn’t there.
In some way, it wasn’t a sad night. I found myself after so many years lost in the noise and emptiness. While the red candle was burning brightly in front of my window, a very strange feeling began to grow inside me.
Next morning I went to St. Patrick Orphanage to give the coat. A very polite nun, Sister Anne, I believe, attended me.
She took the coat, thanked me, and went inside the large room, full of boys and girls opening the presents.
Sister Anne went straight to a corned where there was the little girl of the candles.
In that moment I could touch the real innocence and illusion and felt the peace. And I shouted in silence: “Barry, you are wrong. Father Christmas, exist!”.
