Art by Christian Ver Labana
The apartment I lived in felt uncomfortably cold. Everyone else had left to celebrate Christmas with their families, but I chose to stay behind to earn a little extra—just enough to pay off my debts. Besides, I didn’t have anyone to celebrate with. I’m a working student, currently a cashier at a local convenience store.
As my shift approached, I prepared to leave my room. Before heading out, I paused at my table, gazing at my late mother’s photo and wishing her a Merry Christmas. Next to it was a Bible she had given me; she always told me to read it often, but it had only gathered dust since I never opened it. She was a devout Catholic, attending mass daily and praying fervently. I never quite adopted her faith; I often refused her invitations to church, which saddened her. Tears welled up unexpectedly, and I quickly wiped them away—I didn’t want anyone in the store to see me cry, but I missed her more than anything. After composing myself, I put on my jacket and headed out.
On my way, I encountered a middle-aged man who looked down on his luck. He had a beard and, despite his ragged clothing, an impressive physique. I noticed he was attempting to build a makeshift house from wood, seemingly dilapidated but determined. Normally, I wouldn’t interfere, but I felt compelled to approach him.
“What are you building?” I asked.
He turned, smiling gently. “I’m building a house for myself,” he replied.
“Isn’t that too small? And what’s the point if it’s just going to fall apart?” I asked, genuinely curious.
He looked at me with a mixture of pity and concern. “My boy, it only appears that way because you’re one of those who tries to break it.”
Confused, I listened as he continued. “This house has been through so much. It’s simple, yes, but it has withstood the test of time. I will always come back to repair it.” He paused, then added, “I’ve also met your mother. She’s always praying for you. Remember, she’s always with you.”
“Who are you?” I asked, intrigued.
“Once, I was a carpenter. Now, I go by many names. Who I am to you is up to you,” he said with a laugh. He then told me I was late for work. I wanted to ask more, but suddenly everything faded to darkness.
I woke up at the convenience store counter, confused about how I got there. Next to me, I saw a blue and red piece of paper bearing a Merry Christmas message. As I tried to make sense of everything, I heard faint church bells ringing. A realization struck me. I smiled, and with a renewed heart, I whispered to the wind, “Happy Birthday.”
Piece by Perseus