Simon's Christmas Gift

When Simon woke up, he remembered that Christmas was just a few days away and he hadn’t bought a gift for his Mom.  Scrambling into his clothes, Simon knew that he was going to have to hurry if he was going to earn some money today.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon’s Father asked.  Simon was headed for the back door where his winter coat was hanging on a peg. 

“Sit down and eat your mush.  Cuz if you don’t eat it now it’s gonna be real tasty by dinner time.” Simon’s Father shouted.

“I’m not hungry right now.  I got to go out.” Simon said with a quaking voice.

“Well see if I care what ya do.” His father snarled at Simon without ever looking up.

Simon hurriedly put on his winter coat and hat, which were both threadbare and too small.  As a growing 10 year old boy, Simon’s Father didn’t see any reason to spend much money on clothes.  Once outside, Simon pulled his wagon from behind the bushes where he kept it hidden from his Father.  The wagon had been a gift from his mother and it was the best gift he’d ever had.  He remembered when it was new, all shiny bright red steel with a black handle and big black tires.  Thinking back, Simon remembered the thrill he had felt as he opened up his gift and found the beautiful wagon.  Now the wagon was old and rusty and there was a lot of bailing twine keeping it together but Simon was determined to keep it forever.

It was cold outside and Simon could see his breath but he had a job to do and he wasn’t getting any warmer standing around in front of the house.  Simon wished, not for the first time, that he had a pair of gloves.  Maybe he could find a pair at the next charity sale at church.  Simon pulled his wagon behind him as he trudged through the mushy gray remains of the last snow storm keeping his eyes open for any discarded plastic or glass that he could turn into money.

Simon learned at an early age, which of his neighbors enjoyed drinking.  He also knew which ones might occasionally offer him a few cookies or leftovers from a party.  Simon knew charity when he saw it but when you are hungry, you are hungry and refusing help didn’t put anything into your stomach. As Simon walked through the alleys near his house he was delighted to see that the trash and recycling hadn’t been picked up yet.  Behind Mrs. Webster’s house, Simon hit the mother lode in bottles.  Must have been a party Simon thought as he gathered up bottle after bottle from the recycling bin into his wagon. 

Next stop was Mr. O’Malley’s house where you could always count on getting lots of bottles. While it wasn’t talked about, everyone in town knew that Mr. O’Malley had a fondness for beer and there was always a large stash of bottles piled up behind the house.  Today was no exception.  Silently, Simon prayed “Please Lord let O’Malley keep drinking beer forever.”  “Or, if you can’t do that, at least until I’ve got me some money saved up.”

With just those two stops the old wagon was full of dirty smelly bottles but Simon did not let that keep him from continuing on his mission.  The only thing he could smell was money.

Once inside the recycling center, Simon stomped his feet to get his blood moving and moved closer to the little heater that Mr. Owen kept near his desk.

“Morning Mr. Owen.  I did real well today.  I’ve got 17 beer bottles for ya today from Mr. O’Malley, and I got 12 bottles of some kind of fancy drink from Mrs. Webster’s house.”  Simon said proudly.

“Well Simon, that is great.” Mr. Owen replied with a bright smile.  “Let me tally this up for you real quick.” 

“Simon, you’re in luck today.  Today is two-for-one Tuesday so I’m going to pay you double.”

“Double, Mr. Owen?” Simon questioned.  “I don’t understand.”

“Well son it works like this.  I pay you for 34 beer bottles and 24 fancy drink bottles.  I just double your bottle count because it’s two-for-one Tuesday.” Mr. Owen explained patiently.  “Understand now Simon?”

“Sure do Mr. Owen.  That’s great.”  “How much do I get?”

“Well says here on the calculator your totals comes to $19.67, but because it’s so close to Christmas how about wemake it an even $20.00?  That be okay with you Simon?” Mr. Owen asked.

“You bet Mr. Owen.” Simon responded by jumping up and down happily.

“Gonna do something special with your money today Simon?” Mr. Owen asked politely.

“Yes sir.  I’m headed down to O’Flaherty’s Flower Shop to get something for my Mom.” Simon answered.

“That’s great Simon.  Here’s your money and I’ll see you next week.”  Mr. Owen said as he stood in the doorway thinking what a nice kid Simon was. Not too many kids would be so generous.

Simon ran down the street to O’Flaherty’s with his wagon banging into his heels every other step.  Simon didn’t even seem to notice that his heels were under constant attack from his now empty wagon.  Nothing and nobody was going to get in his way today.

Simon pushed the door of O’Flaherty’s open and he inhaled the scent of all the different flowers.  The only flower that Simon knew was a rose, his Mom’s favorite.  The shop was warm and very inviting and secretly Simon thought that the owner, Ms. O’Flaherty would be a wonderful grandmother.

“Ms. O’Flaherty, it’s me Simon.” he called out.  “I’m here to get something for my Mom and I got $20.00.” Simon continued on happily.

Ms. O’Flaherty came to the front of the store, smoothing down her pink apron and wiping her hands on a towel she always had tucked in the waistband of her apron.  “So good to see you Simon.”  “What were ya thinking of getting today?” she asked seriously.

“I don’t know the names of any flowers except roses.  Can I buy Mom roses?” Simon asked.

“Of course you can.  Turns out this is two-for-one Tuesday, so you’ll get double the amount of roses for your money.”  “How’s that sound, Simon?”

“Wow, it was two-for-one Tuesday over at the recycling center today too.” Simon responded.  “This is turning out to be a great day.”

“What color roses do you want Simon?” Ms. O’Flaherty asked him while pushing her tiny pink glasses back up on her nose.

“Let’s have the yellow ones.  Yellow is my Mom’s favorite color.” Replied Simon.

“Yes I know it is.”  Ms. O’Flaherty carefully wrapped up a dozen butter yellow roses in green paper and handed them to Simon.  Simon hugged the roses to his chest and inhaled the beautiful perfume scent.

“That comes to $12.67 Simon.”  “I don’t have much call for yellow roses at Christmas time so I’m giving you the sale price.  I hope you don’t mind.”  “There’s nothing wrong with the flowers at all, I just won’t be able to sell them.” Ms. O’Flaherty said as she knelt down to Simon’s height.  “You take care of yourself Simon.”

As Simon left the store, he didn’t know that Ms. O’Flaherty watched him, not for the first time, walk up the hill until he was out of sight.  With tears in her eyes, she silently blessed the small boy and wished for his happiness.  “Merry Christmas Simon” she whispered to herself.

After reaching the top of the hill, Simon turned into the local cemetery and made his way down to a grave.  The grave was marked simply “Mary Wilson, wife and mother of Simon.”

As Simon slid down into the soft wet ground, the tears began to flow as he hugged the small tombstone.  He reached into his wagon and pulled out the beautiful yellow roses and placed them at the top of the grave.

“Merry Christmas Mom.” Simon cried.  “I brought you roses – yellow ones – the kind you like and they smell real good.”  “Me and my wagon worked real hard today. Did you see how many bottles I got?”  “Mom, I miss you so much.”  Simon continued to cry as he clung to the cold tombstone.  “I love you.”  And, for just a brief moment, Simon knew he wasn’t all alone.