Has come December. All ready for the New Year: the festival more charming and fabulous. So it was as I perceived in my childhood, so I feel it when I had my son. Only now I’m behind the scenes of magic and of me depends on creating that unique atmosphere, indescribable, harmonious and dreamy.
It turns out that the miracles made by the same people, with their own hands and their hearts flooded with love. We have to learn it all
A week ago I promised my son that he would buy a digger, something that was not related to these parties: my son just dreamed of having one and I wanted to make your desire a reality. The week ended up being tense all day, with a feeling of guilt, delayed my visit to the store. “Tomorrow, sure,” I said to myself every day. And I could barely look him in the eyes, full of hope, but with disappointment because it did not come. It would be another thing if he asked me and to pray for, but no, I promised myself, no one forced me to do so.
Friday, to pick him up from school, I decided to carry out my plans, to meet what was promised, something that I told my son. He was radiant. Expectant. Was jumping up and down and slightly flying over the asphalt. During the week, he saw on more than one occasion his coveted excavator in a dream, she drew and invented fantastic stories about her. Now the dream was so close, within a shopping center.
Quickly we bought food that we needed (wisely, I saved 20 euros in the portfolio for the purchase more important) and we crossed the threshold of the child store. The Holy Grail was almost in our hands. My son traveled the distance up to the shelf desired in a blink of an eye. A brand new and bright excavator for 19.99 euro was there, saying bluntly: “you take Me!” So we did it and, without hesitating for a second, we went to the box.
But the universe decided that we had not had enough obstacles in our path towards the dream, and sent us a queue as long as the Great Wall of China, and only one box operational. People were fighting, demanded to open another cash register in additional, he was sweating, he was going, leaving the carts with the purchase, threatened to put claims to a higher authority, but the cashier could only nod or shake hands: “I Am alone with all”. In another situation, certainly we would have gone. But now neither I posed: my son hit both the box with the excavator that no force in the world could from.
In front of us was a woman with a baby in a stroller and his eldest son, of the age of the mine. She had eyes very beautiful, but infinitely sad. Constantly, I have a few banknotes and some coins he had in his hand and checked if it was for a few potecitos of porridge for baby and yogurt he had in the basket: “This gives us for three days: Saturday, Sunday and Monday, and then it will grant.” The woman and her children were poorly dressed and without any relation with the current climate: she wore a jacket of old, the eldest son, a cardigan with a sweatshirt faded and a sweater, and the baby was wrapped in several blankets. They were all thin, with large expressive eyes, but very cute and looked very united. When the baby awoke and cried, his brother rushed to reassure him: “Calm as soon eat at home.”
Slowly, we approached the box and, at the height of the desk, with chocolates, the boy asked:
“Mom, do you think that santa Claus could bring me a Kinder egg for the New Year?”
“I don’t know, my son…”, he replied, the eyes of the woman became even more sad.
“I’d much, much, much, to receive for the New Year a Kindergarten… After all, dreams do come true in the New Year… isn’t that right, mom?”, the little boy said.
At this point, I thought about how many times we bought my son the Kinder eggs, so, without more, with the coins left over after the purchase. And then he found the toys of them in the most unexpected places: behind a sofa or under the kitchen table. Or even remembered them.
My hand started to search in the bag: now I will buy this Kindergarten, I will pass it to hidden to his wife, mumbling that you give your older child during the party or when deemed appropriate. But the next thought cooled my ardor as a jug of iced water: in my purse there is only 20 euros. For the excavator. I’m not over my bank card. I kind of gritted my teeth, trying to scare these complex thoughts. You do not look at this family, at all.
As we get closer to the tape, and my son, for the first time, he let go of the excavator of their hands: apparently, I was tired of holding it. Now, the admired from the outside, at a distance of half-step. The guy of the woman turned and also looked at the excavator. Look at is little, certainly, could not take his eyes off of the attractive toy.
“¡Qué bonita!”, only dared to pronounce the guy.
“Yes!”, replied my son with joy. “I already have this series, a dump truck, a grader and a concrete mixer. How about you?”
“Go… I don’t have any of that. Well, I have two cars, but one does not have wheels, and will play with him with my brother when I grow up,” said the other.
“Go”, replied my son surprised. “And why your dad doesn’t arrange the wheels of the car?”
“We don’t have a dad”, replied the boy, and took from the hands of his mother a bag with the potecitos of porridge and yoghurt, which he had already paid. “Well, good-bye!”
The family hurried to the output: your baby was already sobbing. At checkout, they charged the purchase, and I sighed with the feeling of duty fulfilled.
“Mom, now I come back,” shouted my son and ran forward.
Managed to reach out to that family and gave the child his excavator, telling him the following: “Take, this is for you!” And with a radiant smile, he returned with me.
I was surprised, I did not give credit, excited, happy. We embraced and laughed together, and kissed him behind the ear and he laughing said to me: “Mom, you make me tickle you!”
Then I talked to the woman and gave them our warm clothes and footwear that we do not use, but that is another story…
Yes, miracles are created by the people themselves, with their own hands and hearts snuggly. We have to learn it all
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