Title: Christmas Story
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Blog Entry: I watched, as the man sat back and tipped his red baseball cap over is eyes through the frost bitten window. I had invited the man inside to stay warm but he did not want to come in. The snow blizzard was ludicrous. The snow was coming down so fast and hard that you could not even see the roads. I turned back to join the party members clanking their wine glasses together in celebration of the birth of Jesus. The time was turning towards around midnight . I walked back over to the window and had wanted to go out there and sit with the man since he was a bum. Nevertheless, I had never wanted to use the term around him. He was a wonderful nice man. He never bothered anybody for money or help. I had been witnessing to him for sometime now. The man never told me his name. He had always sat against the building of the apartment complex of where I now lived every night. He was very strange, did not have a penny to his name. I had no idea how the man even ate. I had offered him food and blankets but the man refused. Even now, the man looked content. The man from what I knew was not saved. His acting and I telling him about what Christmas was all about did not even faze him. A knock came to the door. I was excited because I thought the man had decided to finally come in, after all it was probably around negative 10 outside. Everyone seemed to notice that someone was knocking at the door. It felt like the party had just frozen from the knock. Silence came upon the entire room in an instant. Everyone in the room stared at me as I walked towards the door. I turned the doorknob and opened the door. I rush of wind came in as I told whoever was there to come in. I could not even see the person’s face as he walked in. I pushed the door closed as the wind outside fought me from closing it. Once the door was closed, I looked at the man who had walked in. It was a man in a long winter jacket with his eyebrows and goatee covered with frost. The man had a manila folder under his arm as he shivered from the cold. “I am sorry for the intrusion, but I have urgent news.” The man in the jacket said in an English accent. “Is there a Mr. Delmar here?” The man asked looking at the name on the folder he carried. “There is no one by that name here. I think you may have the wrong house.” I said. The man glared at me. “I think I know where three thirty-two Maplewood Avenue is.” The man said clearly annoyed. “Well I am sorry for your trouble but there is no one here by that name.” The man sighed and glanced out the big glass window at the man sitting outside. “What about him?” The man asked pointing to the man with the folder. I thought that the man might be named Delmar but I did not think he would since he does not live here. “You can check, hang on.” I said walking towards the door and walking outside having the freezing cold wind and snow hit me like a bullet train. I walked up to the man shivering. “Excuse me, Mr. Delmar?” I asked yelling over the wind blowing. The man responded by tipping his hat farther down. “There is a man here that has urgent news for you.” I said hoping that would at least stir him enough to at least come inside to stay warm. The man did stir; he suddenly stood up having his knapsack string flung over his shoulder. And sticking his hand in his pants pocket. I looked him in the eye as he stared at me seeming to not even care what I was or what I was doing. He turned towards the street and walked away. The man with the folder walked out and yelled Mr. Delmar but the man seemed to shake the man off. 20 years I have been witnessing to the man who sat against the building I call home. He had never really listened to me as I spoke to him about Jesus but he always came back to my home. He was now I think 89 because when his birthday had come up he had always a little party hat on his head. The hat had looked ridicules on him but he did not seem to care. I had heard his age from an older woman walking the street. She had known the man was a bum and lived off the streets. No one took him in and if they wanted him to come in, he refused. That night on Christmas Eve I watched as the man walked into the darkness. Headlights and a car horn blared over the noise of the wind as the car not seeing him on the street had hit the man. The man with the folder and I rushed to the man’s side as I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911. The ambulance was screaming down the street as I looked at the man on the ground. His head was bleeding and his arm was in a disfigured position. The man with the folder stepped back and watched the scene as the paramedics quickly aided the man and lifted him on the stretcher. I jumped in the back of the ambulance along with the man with the folder. We both were silent as the ambulance sped to the hospital. Once there the paramedics moved the man to hand him over to the doctors. The doctors immediately took him into surgery. The doctors could not do anything because if they give the man anesthetic then the man could have a heart failure and die. The doctors bandaged the man up and laid him in a hospital bedroom. I stood outside the bedroom as the minutes turned into hours. The man with the folder stayed by. He had no purpose for coming and staying this long. I had been praying ever since the man was hit and that the man might live. The doctors were not hopeful that he would survive the night. The man was old and very ill. The doctors could not do anything and just let nature take its course. I sat down in the plastic red seat next to the man with the manila folder. “May I ask what is so urgent that you must stay here until the man wakes up?” I asked. “No. I am sorry but this information is for Mr. Delmar only.” The man said. With that, I stood up and walked into the man’s room. The beeping of the heart machine was the only noise coming from inside the room. I walked over to the man’s bedside and held his hand. The man returned my hold with a firm grip. A very strong grip for a man of his age and condition. I looked at the man’s face. His wrinkles played their part of making him look older then he seemed to be. His white hair seemed like a white snowfall. The man’s skin was very pale which was odd because he was outside in the sun all the time. The man opened his mouth but no words came out. The man finally pointed to his worn-out jeans jacket on the chair. I walked over to it and he made a motion pointing to the pocket. I stuck my hand in the pocket and pulled out this torn up paper. I brought it over to him and he opened it carefully. I heard shoes walking in. I turned to the man with the folder. He quickly walked over to the man’s bedside, opened the folder, and was about to speak but the man stopped him. The man opened the piece of paper and laid it out on the covers of his bed. I stared at the worn out letters of the paper. “I am rich.” The man managed to say. “Yes you certainly are Mr. Delmar.” The man interrupted. Mr. Delmar stopped the man with a wave of his hand and held my hand. “Jesus is truly the reason for this season.” The man said and the machine that was beeping now lay out an endless beep as Mr. Delmar let go of my hand. The man with the manila folder closed it and was about to walk out but I stopped him. “Can you please tell me what was so urgent?” I asked feeling sorry for the man with the manila folder. “If you tell me what that paper was and what he meant by saying he was rich.” The man confronted. I was surprised at his response. “Ok.” I agreed. The man opened the folder and it showed a will. “It was Mr. Delmar’s sister. She passed away a few days ago and left her money with her brother. The woman has never seen nor spoken to her brother for more then forty years. Nine point seven million dollars.” The man said. I stared at him. And smiled. “Come sit.” I said and I sat down in the hospital chair. The man took a chair next to me and waited for my response. That piece of paper that was lying on his bedside was a track that I had left him around the time we first met. Now begins the story for this one man…
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