• Last Christmas...

    Once, when there laid a fine blanket of snow on the ground everywhere in town, there also laid a small, thin girl on the ground in the nearby park. Her long, once-fiery hair fell past her shoulders in a stringy mess, and she wore a simple, worn-down gray coat with black rain boots that bore holes in its soles. She would sit on the bench in the day, close to where she slept, huddled up into a tiny, miserable, shivering ball as others passed by without so much as a glance in her direction. Every single day, the young girl just sat there and seemed to be waiting for something. Many wondered what the girl was doing.

    Didn't she have a family to go to?

    Why did her parents dress her in such a shabby manner?

    Whomever her parents were, they were not doing a good job with their run-away child...

    - - -

    One day, there was a short, elderly woman who did not pass by the young red-head. Instead, the woman walked up to the girl and fell onto one knee, gazing at the little child with a face full of motherly concern.

    "Child, what is your name?" The woman took the red-head's hands into her own and paused for a moment. The child's hands were so cold; were they not frostbitten by now?

    The girl gazed blankly at the old woman in return; at first, she did not seem to comprehend the change in her usual routine of sitting, scrounging around, and sleeping. In reality, the child was examining the old lady for a few silent moments. Small wrinkles by the corners of the lady's eyes as she smiled slightly... A thin shawl about her small, frail frame... The hands were also wrinkly, but that didn't seem to matter to the girl. The fact was, this old woman made the child nice and warm inside. The little red-head had never felt this in such a long time.

    The girl couldn't remember whether she had even felt such a feeling before.

    Finally, she answered with a small, "L... Lor..." But then she stopped and looked helplessly at the old woman. She seemed unable to remember her own name.

    The woman understood and instead smiled. "You do not need to tell me your name then, child. My name, however, is Ellen. So, darling, why are you on a bench instead of at home with your family?"

    This was something the young girl could remember. Her mother.. Her...

    "Mother died from Father," was what the girl said in the simplest way a child could deem possible. The old woman's eyes widened slightly in concern, and her hands tightened a little around the little girl's hands. She didn't ask for the whole story from the child, but did ask how old the girl was, in which the young girl had replied with a "Six," in a meek voice.

    With lightly pursed lips, Ellen looked into the girl's eyes for a bit and inquired softly, "May I ask that you allow me to bring you to my house? I can give you some clothes fit for this weather; my grand-daughter is much too big for them now. I can give you food, as well as shelter for as long as you need. It pains me to see you in this situation, little angel."

    The child nodded shyly, and without wasting another moment at the freezing bench, the old woman took the young girl's hand in her own and they walked silently to the small, humble house. Upon arriving, Ellen pulled out a small pile of her grand-daughter's pajamas, as well as some extra under-garments, and handed it to the little girl; she also instructed the child to shower and wash off the grime that had accumulated onto her body and hair from days of being unable to wash up.

    "Try not to use really hot water when showering though, sweetie," Ellen said kindly as she rolled up her sleeves. She planned on making a cup of hot chocolate and a nice meal for this child she had brought in.

    In the meantime, the young girl stood for a minute in front of the mirror before she finally removed her clothes and stepped into the shower. At least she remembered how to work a shower. Amazingly, the girl could not recognize the person staring back at her in that mirror! As the red-head finished up showering, she looked down at her feet; the girl had been so dirty that the water had previously turned an ugly brown color. The water was now clear as it ran down the drain.

    When the child finished showering and changing into the grand-daughter's clothes, she stepped out of the bathroom; she did pause for a moment in front of the mirror when she saw a brush on the sink's counter-top and brushed her hair. Looking at herself in the mirror made her smile, for she was no longer dirty and ragged. She was now warm, comfortable...

    ... And hungry.

    The girl looked down at her belly as it growled almost in what she thought was a rather inhumane manner. After wandering about the small, cozy house, she found Ellen pouring something brown into a mug. Ellen turned and smiled at the girl, then brought the mug to the small table nearby and sat down in one of two chairs. There also sat a plate of some pretty delicious-looking food.

    Hesitating at first, the girl took one step toward the table. It was not until Ellen waved her over that the girl took a few more steps and sat down in the chair across from the old woman.

    "May I...?" The combined scent of the hot drink and food made the girl feel as if she were drooling all over her lap. With a laugh, Ellen nodded and told her to go ahead and eat. And with that, the child held the fork awkwardly in her hand as she began to dig in. Ellen simply smiled that same small smile again as she watched the child eat; she herself then picked up her mug of cocoa and held it up to her lips, drinking it sparingly due to habit.

    Tears welled up in the small red-head's eyes after a moment, and this alarmed Ellen.

    "Child, what is wrong?"

    The little girl looked down at her food, with a forkful still in her mouth, chewing slowly. Finally, she swallowed and looked up tearfully at Ellen.

    "El... len," the girl said slowly. The name fell awkwardly from her lips, for she was not used to speaking to others in full sentences. "I... you... Thank you..."

    Ellen's smile was now a radiant one, and she too was now in tears.

    "My angel, of course you are welcome. Christmas is just around the corner, and I could not bear to see a small child like yourself in the cold, without family or friends," said Ellen softly; she took the small girl's hands into her own once more. The girl's hands were no longer ice-cold, but instead were calloused and warm. "But regardless of the fact that Christmas is coming, people should still help others out. At this time of year, when the nights and days are cold, we have to help each other. Show others how much you care, child, as I did for you."

    - - -

    Many years later, the girl grew into a beautiful but fiery, short-tempered woman. It was at the age of ten that the girl remembered her name: Laura. When the little girl was fifteen, Ellen was already bed-ridden. Because Ellen was always stuck in bed, it was the child's turn to take care of her old friend. Ellen, the old woman who had taken the girl in all those years ago, passed away when the girl turned nineteen.

    Now a young lady at the age of twenty-one, the girl still grieves over her kind friend's death. Laura still lives in Ellen's house.

    Every Christmas, Laura always looks for people in need of help or shelter during all those cold wintry nights. And for every person she helps, Laura is always reminded of the gentle, kind old woman who took in and raised her when she was a helpless, freezing girl in the park.