my christmas tale*

i wander alone downtown. suddenly, or not so suddenly, the coloured lightbulbs turn the whole city into a huge christmas tree. it's cold outside - i can feel it crawling under my clothes and hug my skin. a chill runs down my spine, and i bury my hands into my jacket's pockets. the cold is real. too real, if you ask me. one can't run away from it, not when the only option left is to wander through the streets by the winter's solstice. 

christmas' songs can be heard here and there, assaulting my cold mind. i know all of them: some from the countless times they are broadcast on the telly or in the radio; others from some random lift. those are not the ones i remember, though. the songs that come to my mind are those i've learned many years ago in the church, when i was a child, the joyful songs praising the birth of a little baby with no wealth at all. i walk by a shop, the window shows miniature bethlehem nested among the red and green and blue intermitent lights: the narrow cottage with its natural inhabitants, the cow and the donkey; near, joseph and mary, exiled from the world and from those who have cast them out. they are kneeling around a baby, the child unaware of its unavoidable fate that would forever change the course of history. the child, jesus, whose birth prophets and sybils said to redeem mankind's sins. around the cottage, shephers are gathering, summoned by the angel who sings in the sky; and further away, three wise kings coming from distand lands with gifts worthy of the mightest emperor. and up in the sky shines a star, like a smile of the heavens above, sheltering the army of angels who have traded the swords for songs. a sad smile takes shape in my frostbitten lips. can't help it. right here in front of my eyes, through the glass, lies christmas' true meaning - the birth of jesus. the real christmas' spirit, now forgotten by the men once meant to be saved. christmas. what does it has to do with the fat old man, with snow-white beard and blood-red suit, who travels the sky in a sledge pulled by reindeer, giving away gifts for the children who have behaved well? what does it has to do with the restless rush to shopping malls that we can see today? suddenly i long for my childhood, for my grandmother's gifts, always given with a warm smile and "in the name of baby jesus". christmas was his, and his alone; why was it taken from him? nowadays, how does a father explain to his children that santa does not exist and all those gifts under the tree are offered by the family instead? what did you know about it, grandmother? nothing. you never needed to. your wisdom was of a different kind. god did exist, you were sure of his presence. everyone did; and everything else was nothing but fantasies to entretain the imagination, for happiness didn't rely upon them.

i resume my walking, facing the cold street with that image still printed on my mind's eye. i'm not religious, mind you; and even though my education was doubtlessly catholic, i don't consider myself one. might be a christian if you want, a neutral one who doesn't go to the church. it's an option, a phylosophy as good as any other i suppose. above all i'm a free spirit, a free mind. faith is something meant for some futile show-off; it is felt within us, and within us alone. rituals are meaningless then,fir they are empty: everything that truly matters lies deep inside, hidden from anyone's gaze. god might exist somewhere, but that possibility is well beyond my reasoning, and it's long since i've given up to try to explain it. i'm not more or less faithful than anyone else; nor do i want to be. if god does exist, i'll find out one day - either to ascend to heaven or to rot in hell. it doesn't matter. but meanings to matter to me, and i can't help feeling sad for the corruption of christmas. there are some who still remember its true meaning, but those are lost in the crowd, the same crowd who invades shopping malls in a frenzy. that's not the worst thing though. the worst is the hipocrisy that everyone seems to accept with a smile. messages of good wishes are sent to friends and foes alike. cumpliments are given freely, with a long rehearsed smile carefully prepared for these happy days. what happy days?

sometimes i thing that i might well be the one wrong in all this. i mean, why on earth should i be right and half the world wrong? i'm the cast out, after all. but truth be told, christmas is a sad time for me. i know it might sound weird, but it's true. for many, christmas is the time when family gathers around the dinner table, everyone's differences and arguments left out in the cold for one night. a time for peace, for happiness, for love. well, not in my family. at least i can't blame it for hipocrisy. but i don't get it. christmas is only one day! the peace and the love were part of the original meaning, now lost by the heathen cult of progress. but why do people smile now, when they don't do it during the other three-hundred and sixty-four days of the year? why do they gather now, if they never did it before, if they never cared to even say hello before? why do people feel they must share love now, if everything around us teaches us nothing but hatred? a time for peace? well, not for me. my spirit is waging war, more than ever. why would i be allowed to rest now?

*this is something i've written several years ago. somehow i felt like translating it now, the christmas' thoughts of a seventeen year-old girl walking alone through the city. it's no big deal, but it's the closest from a christmas' tale i have ever written.