The Christmas Hope

It was December, the snow was as white as a snowshoe hare, the air crisp and filled with dancing flakes. On the last day of class, a small boy sat, staring intensely at the minister. He was to visit each class and ask the kids what they wanted for Christmas. Each wrote their response on a piece of paper that the minister took and would read next Sunday, and the Sunday after. The boy put his in the small box with a hopeful expression, similar to his peers in excitement, but the words composed in it were too mature for him.

For anyone his age. As the minister left, the boy tugged on his robe, trembling with the importance of his question. \"Yes?\" The minister asked, wondering what ailed this kid.

What came out of the boy\'s mouth next didn\'t surprise him, but as he reflected back on this a few weeks later, he admired the way the child had put it, the hidden meaning staying true to its definition.

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\"Will my wish be granted?\" He ceased trembling, instead just staring pleadingly into the older male\'s eyes, blue oceans meeting his silvery moonlit ones, slightly glazed over with age. \"Everyone\'s wish shall be taken into consideration. If you hold it dear enough in your heart, it shall come true.\" How many times he had delivered this same speech, the man had no clue. It always seemed enough to the other kids, but this strange boy seemed to analyze his tone and easygoing demeanour.

Finally, he nodded, seemingly satisfied. The minister left without another word or interrogation, pushing the thought aside in his mind. He wouldn\'t think about the child until 2 weeks past, when he got to reading the last of the wishes from the class on Christmas Day. Unfortunately, there was also a funeral scheduled for later on that day, a hastily made arrangement just a few hours prior.

This was usually something he put off, but something about the last name of the individual intrigued him. \"And our last Christmas wish is from a lad named William. \'My wish is not for toys or material items. It is not an answer I seek, but a hope. I may be young, but so is she. Please ensure my mother will be happy on Christmas. Signed, Will Thompson.\' What a lovely wish, I think it\'ll come true- what with family being together and all-\" he quickly finished with a final song and good tidings to everyone. As he prepared for the funeral scheduled at 1, he noted that only two members stayed, a young boy perched in his back row seat accompanied by a grim looking man. A few people came in with the coffin, then left just as quickly. \"This is a funeral dedicated for Olivia...Thompson,\" the minister said, clearing his throat as he took in the news. He looked closer at the boy sitting on the bench. William? Memories flooded back to him: the question, the boy\'s expression, the wish. William didn\'t look too sad, his face was beaming. After the ceremony, he came up to the minister. \"I\'m sorry for your loss,\" the man said, unsure of what else to say. \"Mama is happy now,\" the boy replied. \"She was sick...her hair fell out and she had to go for many treatments...but shes happy now with God.\"