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It was a large, beautiful window full of wonderful toys! It was a display window designed to attract both young and old, and surely enough, all day long the rushing throngs of people had slowed their steps, and, as if drawn by some magnet, they had stopped to gaze in upon the happy panorama of Christmas wonderland.
But twilight had fallen as gently as the softly swirling snow, and the streets were almost deserted. Only four people stood looking in at the window--four people and a shaggy, white puppy. Three of them were children, and as they stood together, hand in hand, their voices rang out in joyous excitement. Even the puppy expressed his approval by a series of short, staccato barks, each punctuated by a dash of his short, stubby tail.
But the fourth person, a man, had stopped, not so much to look at the window as to decide what to do next. He was a newspaper reporter and he had been sent out that morning to get a story for the paper. "A Christmas Story," his boss had said. This was perhaps the hardest assignment he had ever been given for, you see, Stan Matthews did not believe in Christmas. Oh, he supposed maybe a baby had been born in a stable, but he didn't believe he was God. In fact, he didn't believe there was a God!
All day long he had mingled with the Christmas crowds, and he was weary, desperately weary--and what was worse, he had no story. The crowds had all gone home. He had missed his chance. Now, what was he to tell his boss? So troubled were his thoughts that he had not even noticed the children beside him, and although he was looking at the window, he had not been seeing it at all. Suddenly, he became aware of childish voices.
"And, Janie, there's a circus and the little clowns are so funny! They're turning somersaults all the time!" It was a small boy's voice raised high with excitement. "An-an-and, Janie, there's a little fat brownie blowing plastic bubbles, and he has such a large pile of them, he's almost all covered up!" exclaimed another voice. It was that of an older girl, Stan noticed. "Who-o-o-o," whistled the boy. "Who-o-o-o! There goes a passenger train through the tunnel, and the man's turning the switch for a long freight train! Ho, Janie, the Bubble Brownie just winked at us!" There's a merry-go-round full of dolls!" (This from the older girl.) "Oh, just beautiful dolls--in white and pink and blue--, and, you know what, Janie? One seems to be looking just 'specially' at you."
Stan realized that only two of the children had been talking and that they were describing to "Janie" all the wonders of the Christmas window. He stepped back into the entryway where he could see their faces through the glassed-in corner of the brightly lighted window. One look, and he stepped back, startled and shocked at what he saw. If he lived to be a hundred years old, Stan Matthews would never forget those faces! Two of them where all aglow with joyous light and gladness, and even the wiggling puppy in the boy's arms seemed to quiver with sheer excitement of the moment. But, the other face, the little one in the middle, was staring at the window with vacant, unseeing eyes! The beautiful little Janie was blind!
One glimpse, and that was enough. If he had looked a thousand times, Stan couldn't have seen those faces more clearly than he was seeing them as he hurried away in the darkness. They were there, three faces, painted indelibly on the walls of his mind--and he couldn't erase them! Oh, the pity of it! What was the good of a Christmas window if a little girl cannot see it! Those other two faces! They were simply beaming with joy and gladness at what they saw! And how they were trying to help--was it Janie, they called her? How they were trying to help her see, too! But, Janie didn't see. What did it matter if a train did go through a tunnel, or if a little Brownie with twinkling eyes was blowing bubbles? Janie couldn't see. she looked--and saw only darkness! She couldn't understand! If only a miracle..."
"Hey, fellow, get hold of yourself! You see blind people every day of the week! And, you don't believe in miracles. Remember? I guess it was just the sight of a little of a little blind face at a Christmas window. But, why a Christmas window? You don't believe in Christmas, either!"
That's why I told Mother I had to work this Christmas. Oh, I know it isn't true. I could have taken off, but, I can't go home ever again at Christmas time. I know Mother will be heart-broken, but...well, I would only break her heart worse if I go! I've tried all year to forget last Christmas. It was fun--seeing all the family again--Sue and John and their little families and Sally. Mother was radiant with happiness. Christmas eve night we sang Christmas carols. I complained of a cold and didn't sing I can hear the children's voices, yet... To continue the story, click on NEXT, below.
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