I RECENTLY WENT to a Christmas craft show in an old Victorian house. It is a place that I enjoy going to every year. It draws people from throughout the area and it's not unusual to find long lines of people (mostly women) waiting to go in and see the lovely handmade items for sale.
This year I went on a weekday to avoid the crowds. I was feeling very blue the day I went. Usually, just entering the house instantly gets me into the Christmas spirit, but not this time. I even considered leaving and coming back at another time but something compelled me to stay and see if my mood would improve.
As I moved from room to room, I noticed a young boy of about 8 years old wandering around. At first I assumed that he was with an adult, but soon I sensed from his mannerisms that he was alone. As he moved with the flow of shoppers, I could see that he was clutching some dollar bills in one hand.
At one point he was picking up a sachet filled with potpourri and dropped some of his money onto the floor. I hurried over to him, and returned the money to him. He was quite taken aback to realize that he had dropped some of his cash and thanked me for returning it. He walked away and returned to smelling each items that had any perfume or potpourri odor to it. I concluded that he must have been looking for a special present for his mother -- perhaps a birthday or Christmas gift. I proceeded with my own shopping and he and I parted ways.
When I went to the check-out counter, I saw him again. He was in front of me in line. He looked taller to me somehow, and I concluded that it was because he was standing tall with pride. He had in his arms a large heart-shaped, pink satin box. He was beaming with joy as he admired his found treasure, repeatedly glancing at his money still crumpled in his hand, and glancing back at the heart-shaped box. Then he spotted me.
I said, "Well, it looks like you have found what you came looking for." The youngster said, "Yes! I have! Smell it." I bent down and smelled. The lid of the box, which was covered with satin and lace and filled with a very soft-smelling potpourri, reminded me of baby powder. I told him, "That smells lovely. Is this a special present for someone? Maybe your mom?" He nodded his head affirmatively. I then asked, "Is it for her birthday?" His expression turned sad. He explained that his mother was "very sad." He told me that his baby sister had recently died and his mother "couldn't make her sadness go away." He then explained to me that the crafts show was one of his mother's favorite places to shop, and he had come there hoping to find something to cheer her up. He then told me that he had selected the heart-shaped box "because it smells just like my sister used to smell." I was stunned. My eyes welled up with tears. He then said that, "I hope that if my mommy sits and holds this box she won't feel so sad anymore." Just as he made this last statement to me, it was his turn to give the clerk his money. He handed her the heart-shaped box and stood there proud as a peacock with his money in his tiny fist. He had $23. The clerk ran up the bill and
said, "That'll be $24.50." He looked horrified. "I can give you $23." The clerk said that she was sorry but the price with tax was $24.50. His head dropped. I stepped over to the counter and said, "You need an extra $1.50?" The clerk said yes. I dug into my purse and produced the difference. He hugged me, took the heart-shaped box that was now wrapped up in a bag for him and stepped to the side of the counter. The clerk said, "Gee, you were lucky that your mommy was here to help you out." He then told her that I wasn't his mother and left the store. I told him as he exited that his mommy was lucky to have such a special son as he.
The clerk then inquired of me why I had been so generous to a child that I didn't know. I then told her his story. She, like I, felt emotionally moved by this experience.
I believe that I will always remember that young fellow, probably most of all at Christmas. A time of giving and receiving. A time of love and sharing. A time for family ties to be manifested in special ways. Though this boy's mother lost a child, she also has much to be thankful for. Her son loves her more than words could ever say. The purchase of this special box with it's precious smell was a symbol of this son's love. Wherever he is tonight, I hope for him and his family a joyous holiday.
Lillie Shockney writes from Reisterstown.