The twenty-third of December began when the entire household awoke early to the sound of carols and the smell of gingerbread, cloves and cinnamon, spruce and pine. The adults had coffee with hot chocolate and candy canes while the teens helped the younger children get ready. After a large breakfast of pumpkin pancakes with maple syrup, sausage, and cinnamon toast, everyone went to work or school.
Nobody thought anything of the dropping temperature or the thick white clouds building on the horizon. Around nine, however, a weather alert came on the television and over the radio. Everyone stopped what they were doing and went straight for the windows. Long after the so-called climate change crisis had been dismissed, the weather was still a mess; the area had seen no significant snowfall in years. The first flakes began to fall at precisely ten-thirty, and within half an hour, it was well on its way to becoming a blizzard, so school was let out early. When homework was finished and all last-minute preparations were complete two hours later, there were already six inches on the ground.
When the snow paused, the older children got their shovels and cleared the path before moving on to the rest of the neighborhood, while ten-year-old Kate and her older brother Michael, assured that their help was not needed, decided to go sledding. They had arrived at the Children's Village only two months before. Unlike most of the people there, they were not from the Community. Twelve-year-old Michael had adjusted quickly; with so many people looking out for him and helping him, he made friends, his grades improved, and he stopped getting in trouble. Sometimes he worried about his sister a little. After what their parents had done, she still had some trouble trusting people and being open with her new family. But on days like today, they forgot all of that.
They took Asher, Fiona, and Lily with them and told them about the Village and their family and the town they lived in and the true meaning of the quickly approaching holiday. It seemed strange to the siblings how ignorant the newcomers were and how they were adjusting. Though the Community had experienced great changes before their departure, they were still not used to feeling much at all and were therefore very sensitive to their newly realized emotions. When Fiona accidentally pushed Lily or Asher said something that made Fiona uncomfortable, they had stuttered out an apology as if feeling that the old ritual was insufficient.
They had been sledding for about an hour when Mary called them inside. They were about to go down one last time when they slid off the sled and tumbled down the hill. Kate was about to go back up for it when Michael said, "Forget it. This way we won't have to pull it back up next time."
Inside, Grandmother and Mary were putting the finishing touches on dinner. Mary was fairly young, only thirty-three, with shoulder-length light brown hair and a nice smile that always put people at ease. She looked so much like her mother that those from the Community, where there were no real families, were often shocked by the resemblance. They each had a snack and went to the living room where they worked on what was always their biggest project this time of year.
Asher, Fiona, and Lily were impressed with the family's hard work and industry, delighted with their various skills, and curious about purpose of the boxes stacked along the walls. Each one was carefully wrapped in beautiful paper and contained a handwritten, heartfelt note and several gifts. The others explained that the world was far from perfect, and there were many people in need of assistance, especially at this time of year. They had already put together over a hundred boxes for people in third-world countries and faraway cities, but now it was time to think closer to home. They finished putting the last few boxes together just as the others came home.
Carols played softly over the radio, the lights on the tree were turned on for everyone to enjoy, and the fire was lit as it was getting dark and the temperature was dropping quickly. After dinner, seventeen-year-old Matt turned to Michael and asked where his sled was. Seeing the snow had started to fall again, he wanted to make sure they would be able to find it the next day. So they put on their coats, boots, hats, and gloves and walked outside. The snow was at least ten inches deep and the temperature had dropped to twenty-five degrees. They started toward the hill when they heard something.
Matt shone his flashlight around and saw the sled speeding down the hill, finally stopping in the evergreen bushes. He was about to yell at Michael not to be careless with his things next time when he saw him. A boy, around Michael's age, wearing only a flimsy shirt, threadbare pants, and shoes that were completely worn through, holding something tightly against his chest. He shouted to Michael, "Get Mom and Dad!" before taking off his coat and hat and putting them on the frozen boy. He sighed in relief when he saw his eyes open, but terror soon took over when he realized what he was holding on to. A child. A baby boy, wrapped in what appeared to be the older boy's jacket. At that, he pulled the sled out from the bushes and ran as fast as he could toward the house.
His parents met him halfway there. Mary immediately took the baby and held him in her coat while Matt and Jonathan carried the older boy inside. The doctor began shouting instructions to the older children, who quickly put more logs on the fire, got warm, dry clothes and blankets, and shepherded the younger children into the kitchen. He placed the boy on the couch while his wife quickly put some clean, warm clothes on the baby and sat on the chair closest to the fire holding him.
After half an hour, they were fairly confident that the boys would be alright. Jonathan concluded they were both frostbitten, but it was not as bad as they had first supposed. Actually, it was nothing short of a miracle they were both alive. He took the baby from his wife, who went to the kitchen where everyone was waiting anxiously. The most anxious, of course, were his friends and his sister. Mary made some tea and explained that they would just have to hope and pray that the boys would get well. Knowing there was nothing more they could do, she insisted they do as they always did in the evenings, taking turns reading before putting the younger children to bed and bringing the television into the master bedroom so the older children could watch a movie.
Jonas woke up early the next morning. His head hurt and his throat was sore. He heard low voices coming from nearby. He knew he shouldn't listen in on people's conversations, but he was still half asleep and couldn't help overhearing.
"Well?"
"I checked earlier. No fever, no serious damage from hypothermia, blood pressure is almost normal. They should be just fine. Talk about a Christmas miracle." There was a pause. "What?"
"I thought I saw…" Another pause. "Jonas? Are you awake?"
He opened his eyes. He saw a man and woman in a room that shone softly with a fire and multicolored lights on a tree. It was like the old memory, but much more vivid. It was real. He heard the faint tinkling music that had been playing when he lost consciousness and recognized the smell of the tree, decorated with gingerbread cookies and pomanders, turkey and stuffing, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. But…
"Where is Gabe?"
"Gabriel?" asked the woman. "He's still sleeping. Both of you were nearly frozen when we found you, but it looks like you'll be fine now."
They introduced themselves and said they would talk more later before slipping out of the room. At the same time, they let in three people Jonas never expected to see again. After a joyful reunion, the rest of the family slowly trickled in, bringing food and drinks and putting more logs on the fire. Eventually Gabe was brought in as well. They stayed there all morning, talking, laughing, singing, eating, and reading.
Later, Jonas described his journey with Gabe, and Asher, Lily, and Fiona told about the changes in the Community. The bad memories came first, beginning with things like sunburns and fear. Then they kept getting worse and worse. Though the expected chaos never fully came, by the time they received the memory of war, the Community simply ceased to function at all but the most basic level, and for some not even that. Perhaps the most striking, crippling realization was that, for all their efforts, the Community had failed to eradicate all these wrongs. Everyone, to their dismay, found they were not entirely innocent themselves. No one could go to school or work or volunteering, or even get out of bed as if everything was perfectly fine. Many locked themselves in their rooms while some simply broke down in the streets, and no one was too concerned about the rules or their so-called leaders anymore, seeing as they had been among the first to break down and the least able to function. It was fortunate that all this occurred in a matter of hours; had it been longer, they may have very well destroyed themselves. As it was, the worst of the memories ended with one of an innocent man, the son of a king, in fact, who had accepted hostility and eventually death by the people he had come to save, leaving people sad, afraid, and even angry, when something new started to happen.
It started with a child's laugh. The child had run about, looking for a place to hide, before coming to the Giver's house where he had been distracted by the library, with more books than anyone in the Community had ever been privileged to see. When the pleasant memories had calmed him enough to read, he found some desperately needed answers in the old library. He called to his friends, and soon, all the children of the Community ran outside and saw the colors, the real sky, and everything that had been hidden for far too long. Slowly, the adults ventured outside, amazed at their resiliency and greater ability to cope with the horrors they had witnessed than the leaders who now appeared either catatonic or simply mad, raging against anything and everything that could have caused this disaster. But there they were.
They considered finding the Giver to ask for advice, reasoning it may have been his fault, or the Receiver's, but they still needed guidance, when a revelation came to them. They needed the Giver because he knew what it meant; he had seen the worst that humanity had to offer and because of that, he was considered wise. They saw how foolish they were in comparison, depending solely on their leaders to tell them how to live, knowing if humanity had survived so long when the world was such a terrible place, there had to be good things too, which they had denied themselves. Between this realization and an investigation into the children's discovery, they found more joy and peace than they had ever felt before.
Of course, they agreed they could never go back to how things were and promptly removed the leaders from their positions. They did go to see the Giver, but not to blame or demand an explanation. He advised them to read some of his books to learn how to live. Some people chose to leave, to go out into the world and face reality, while others took on the responsibility of true leadership and guided the Community as it rebuilt. Asher, Fiona, and Lily found there was little they could do there and decided to leave. They found they really did love their families, but all agreed that some time, even a few years, apart could be for the best.
By the time they finished talking, it was time for dinner, and Jonas and Gabe were both perfectly well. After dinner, they realized they still had to deliver their gifts, so they bundled up and headed out, carrying dozens of boxes throughout the neighborhood before going to the Christmas Eve service. They returned home very late, caroling the whole way, just as the snow began to fall again, this time in thick flakes that drifted gracefully from the sky. They had some gingerbread cookies and eggnog and finally went to bed, falling asleep to the sound of a music box playing the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. It was a good night. When Jonas fell asleep, he knew he was finally home.