Sunday 8 April 2012

Easter Story


An Easter Story based on real events.
It was Easter Saturday about five in the afternoon.  The boy had just received the last bit of the money he needed from old Mrs Banksia for cleaning her yard.  It was a huge yard and the grass was getting out of hand.  It was probably too big a job for a ten year old but he had begged the old lady. He’d toiled all day  pushing the old hand mower then raking up all the grass and putting it in the bin.  Then she’d insisted he hose all the paths.  He was so worried he’d miss the shop if she wanted one more thing done, but at last she gave him the money and he took off running full pelt.

He wanted to buy his mum the Easter egg he’d had his eye on for the last two weeks.  It sat right in the middle of the Easter egg display in the window of the Candy shop down the road.  It was chocolate and covered with foil in a magical mix of bright purples and silver, greens and pinks with a bright satin bow around it. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It seemed to glow like a jewel and he desperately wanted to get it for his mum. 

She worked so hard to support him and his sister and brother and this wasn’t easy in in the 1940’s when so many mothers were widowed from the war and work for women with kids was scarce and so hard – washing or cooking or scrubbing floors and taking in ironing just to put food on the table. Lately she looked so tired and worn.  But never a complaint escaped her lips and she always had a smile and an encouraging word for him particularly.   He wanted to see her face light up when he gave her the egg on Easter morning.

So he wheeled into the shop and breathless from his run, told the shop girl he wanted the big egg right in the middle of the window. “Sorry love we sold the last of the Easter eggs an hour ago there’s none left.”

“But it’s there in the window – I’ve seen it all week” and he ran back to look, his heart dropping when he saw the display was changed – no Easter eggs to be seen.  He ran back in “but you must have some somewhere – Look I’ve got the money “, and he held out his handful of coins – pennies and halfpennies, threepences and the odd sixpence and  one precious shilling,  the tears and panic beginning to spill through his voice ,  “you Must”.

In the devastation of the moment he hadn’t noticed the tall man with the dark curly hair sitting in the logue at the back of the shop.  The man stood up and came over, his eyes taking in the somewhat ragged barefoot boy.  He noted the  grass and dirt sticking to the boy’s legs , the bright ginger tufts of hair sticking up where the boy had  been running his hands through it and the struggle to keep the tears back, written all over the boy’s face.  “What’s the trouble son?” he asked, his voice pitched to a gentle tone,

It was too much for the boy.  Out poured the whole story – His mother who worked so hard and the odd jobs he’d scrounged over the last 2 weeks and the final hard day’s work, the exhaustion and despair in his voice telling more than the words. And now it was all for nothing.  No precious jewel bright Easter egg for his mum. And the man understood that it was about so much more than an Easter egg.

"Tell you what son, how about if you come around to my factory and we’ll make an Easter egg for your mum.”  “Really?” disbelief and hope warring in his voice.  Then the boy paused as he thought about all the warnings he had been given, but the man seeing this in his eyes, reassured him that there were a couple of other people still cleaning up in the factory.

So around they went and while the dark haired man warmed the chocolate for the mould he carefully drew more of the boy’s story from him.  He heard about the younger brother and sister and the family struggles and said casually “well , look at that, seems like I’ve heated too much chocolate here for just one egg so why don’t I make one each for your brother and sister and you too. While I do that you can pick out the foil to put around them.”
So the boy went through the various colours and carefully chose the foils and when the eggs were cool enough they foiled them together, the boy’s tongue poking out a little from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on this important task.  Then his face fell. “Gee mista, I’ve only got enough money for the egg for my mum.  I can’t pay you for the others”. 

“Well that’s OK; you’ve done a lot of the work here yourself so you get a discount.  Now let’s find some boxes to put the eggs in and a bag to carry them.”

The man thought to himself that the light in the boy’s face as he carefully counted out the coins and took the bag was worth a hundred Easter Eggs.  But he didn’t dent the boys pride by not taking the money.

25 years later and the enticing aroma of toasted coconut filled the factory and wafted out the doors as the tall man, silver now sprinkled through his dark hair, made toasted marshmallows.  His face was lined and today his forehead creased with worry. He was expecting a traveller to arrive and the continuing supply of chocolate depended on the goodwill of this traveller because the account with the supplier was overdue. He needed the chocolate for the Easter eggs for this year so he could trade out of the slump his business was experiencing. The traveller he was expecting was not known for his kindness. 

Then in the doorway stood a different man than the one he was expecting, the logo on his badge indicating he was a senior man in the company.  The tall man’s heart sank – they’ve sent the big gun.  Then the man stepped forward, his ginger hair catching the light as he said with a smile “Hello John, you won’t remember me but …’

2 comments:

  1. Such a wonderful moral to this account which is impelling in its 'microscopic truthfulness'. Love it.

    ReplyDelete

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