The Writers' Circle

"The Christmas Wish "

Frances usually loved the crunch of fallen frosted leaves underfoot as she walked her Terrier-cross, Tish around the park but today her heart just wasn't in it. It wasn't until the newspaper plopped onto the doormat that morning with the 'Only 23 days 'til Christmas!' emblazoned across the front that she felt a bolt of panic.  "Just taking Tish out - can you give the kids their breakfast, love?" she called to her husband as she rattled the lead.  
Tish didn't need calling. One jangle from the lead in her mistress's hand and she was there, tail wagging, tongue out and jumping up and down as if she was on a pogo stick.
It wouldn't be so bad if the children were used to a tight Christmas. Both Frances and Neil had been in well-paid jobs when they met and they decided that Frances would keep on working at least part time when the children came along. Things worked well enough for a while and Jessica, 8, and Matthew, 6, enjoyed the benefits that two working parents brought: a bedroom each with pictures of their favourite TV characters decorating their rooms in a nice house with a huge garden, all the latest electronic toys, designer clothes and holidays abroad.
Tired after twice around the reservoir, Frances let Tish off the lead and sat down on her favourite bench, which had been donated by a local artist. It had been carved from an old oak tree that had fallen due to lightning striking it.  The bench was long enough to take three seated adults and there were five cut off log sections placed close by for the children. Amazingly intricate carvings of squirrels and other woodland animals seemed to run across the back of the bench while frogs leapt over toadstools and tiny insects scuttled around the arm rests. She always felt calm on this seat.  She loved to sit still and imagine she had been carved from the bench, too, and that the big blue sky above was there just to protect her from harm. 
She was woken from her reverie by the clicking of an old woman's tongue, calling to the swans "Come here me sweeties" she cooed, throwing wheat grains and tiny cubes of potatoes.  There was a flightless flurry as the swans vied for their share. 
The old woman sat down beside Frances. "You know most people think bread is good for the swans but it's not.  It's vegetables that's good for them."
"Really? I didn't know that."
"Yep - bread won't kill them but it won't give them what they need."
"I'll remember that." Said Frances, politely.
"I've seen you here with two little kiddies. Are they yours?" asked the old woman.
"Yes, they are" she smiled at her.
"Yours is that nice cottage near the entrance to the park, isn't it? The one with the walnut tree in the garden?"
Frances nodded.
"I'll bet they're excited about Father Christmas coming?'" the old woman enquired.
Frances bit her lip.
"Are you alright, dear?" the old woman asked but she'd already guessed the answer.
Frances turned her head away to try to hide the tears that were now tumbling down her cheeks "I'm sorry." She tried to keep her voice level, but failed.
The old woman put a hand on Frances' shoulder. "Hey, it's ok. Sometimes it helps for a stranger to listen." She said gently.
It seemed natural for Frances to talk to the woman and once she started she couldn't stop. She told her about how the Government funding cuts in the colleges meant that her husband's job as the Learning Difficulties Coordinator had been terminated as was her own as a part time lecturer. Because they'd moved into the area only 3 years before, neither had been in their jobs long enough to come out with a reasonable redundancy package.
"The children are used to finding lots of expensive Christmas presents under the tree but this year there's no way we can do that and once the mortgage payment insurance runs out we may not even be able to keep the house if we both don't get another job." She sobbed into the paper tissue passed to her and stroked Tish's head as her faithful dog nuzzled into her legs.
The old woman smoothed Frances' soft auburn hair. "I see." She said, her cool grey eyes looking out over the water. "If you could have a wish for your children, what would it be?"
Frances thought for a moment. "I would wish for their happiness."

The woman smiled. "I've seen you sit here often with your children, right here on this bench.  I've seen the way they talk to the carved animals and trace the shapes of the leaves and flowers, also carved from the old tree. They value love, those children of yours."

The old woman pointed to the little brass plaque on the inside arm of the bench. "See that, there? Can you read what it says?"
Frances screwed up her eyes. The engraving was quite small and had become dirty over the years. "Dedicated to Sarah from Daddy. Artist Edward Chapsman, 1997" she read out loud.
"That was my son, Edward." The old woman said, quietly. "I'm Doris Chapsman and all I ever wanted for my only son was what you want for your children - happiness. Seventeen years ago my son and his wife would bring their baby, Sarah, to the park to feed the swans. They'd visit most weekends and this was their favourite spot. Eleven years ago Ed found out he had a rare form of cancer and one year later it took him. But before it did he hung on to finish carving this seating area so that Sarah and her mum still had a little of him with them when they came."
It was Frances' turn to comfort the old woman, now. "Doris, I'm so sorry."
"It's OK, dear, I still miss him, of course I do but he's still in here" she tapped her heart. "And I've still got my Sarah and her mum." She smiled.
"I know you're right, expensive presents aren't the be all and end all." Frances said, a little ashamed of herself. At least they all had each other.
"I'll bet your kids would much prefer walking around the park with you than bashing all them buttons." Said Doris, standing.
"Yes, they would." Frances stood too and gave Doris a gentle peck on the cheek. "Thank you for putting me back in perspective." She said.
"Anytime, dear.  See you and the children on the park tomorrow, then?"
"Absolutely"

When Frances got home, Neil put a mug of hot chocolate in her cold hands. He looked concerned. "You didn't take the kids out with you - are you alright?"
"Mummy, Mummy! We're so glad you're back - will you play cards with us"
The moment they saw her they'd abandoned their electronic toys and dashed over to hug her. She look at their happy faces "Yes sweethearts, go and get them out"
She looked at her husband, took his face in her hands, tiptoed up to kiss the tip of his nose and said, "Yes, darling, I'm alright. So are you and so are they" she smiled, nodding towards their children laying the playing cards out on the table. "I've a feeling my Christmas wish has come true already."