It was Mark’s birthday. The sun was shining as if it was a beautiful, scintillating gem, kept on the dark cold blankets of space. He sat by a fountain, where jets of water splashed on the surface of the round pool and spread a rich fragrance. He bent near the edge of the pool and dropped a coin into the water. He closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

Then, he got up and walked around the fountain as if it would fulfil his wish just then. After giving a hopeful glance at the sparkling water, he turned and sped off in the other direction. He reached a bakery and looked around at the people who were busy purchasing nice smelling food. It always reminded him of home. Mark was told to pick up something by the owner.

He entered the bakery, and the owner approached Mark with a cream-coloured box tied with a beautiful red ribbon in one hand and a rose in another.

‘Happy Birthday Mark,’ she said and gave him a warm and affectionate smile.

‘Thank you, Martha. And you look as beautiful as the rose you are holding in your hand right now,’ he said.

Martha blushed.

‘Well, anyway,’ she said controlling her smile, ‘here is your birthday cake’.

She gently presented him the ribbon decorated box. 

‘Can I come to your place? For your birthday?’ she asked timidly.

 ‘No, Martha. There are going to be several people at my place this evening that you might not like. You will be bored.’

‘I implore you. I just want to be there when you cut the cake. I won’t bother, I promise,’ she pleaded.

‘I will certainly see you, but later,’ he declared and walked towards the door. As he was about to push the glass door, Martha called him from behind.

‘Has your wish come true?’ she enquired softly.

 He turned his face to look at her.

‘Not yet Martha, but someday it will.’

He went to his office and all his colleagues greeted him.

‘Happy birthday Mark,’ he heard for the umpteenth time as they shook hands with him.

‘Thank you. Thank you all,’ he returned with a faint smile.

‘Look here Mark,’ one of them called as Mark entered his cubicle ‘we are thinking of holding your birthday party at the new hotel in town. The hotel staff has special arrangements for such occasions. Mark, we will all be there.’

Mark shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

‘I am really, really sorry Joe, but I have people visiting.’

The evening had arrived. He reached his house and opened the front door. He hummed a tune listlessly, with his suitcase in one hand and the box in the other. He turned on the lights and opened the box to reveal a sweet brown chocolate cake. He placed a candle on the top and hurriedly searched his own pockets and finally found a lighter. He lighted the blue candle and took out his knife to cut the cake on which shone the words: ‘Happy Birthday Mark.’

Mark slept after that. The lights had been switched off and he was lying on the sofa in total darkness. Suddenly, the phone rang. Mark jumped in the air and then it occurred to him where the sound came from. He looked at the phone. It was ringing. He imagined for a second that his wish had come true. Then he looked at the phone and realized it hadn’t.

‘Mark,’ said a voice at the other end, ‘you should seriously consider coming to your party now Mark. It has all been arranged, though without your consent of course.’           

Mark looked at his watch. It was about time.

‘Joe, my guests are about to arrive now,’ said Mark. Then, the doorbell rang.

‘Sorry Joe, I think they are at the door now. You can attend the party without me and with my consent’, he finished and hung up.

Months passed, and Christmas arrived along with the first snow of the year, turning all the people – young or old - in a festive mood.

‘Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas’ chorused a group together as Mark entered the bakery after marching a long distance in the freezing cold.

‘Here, coffee,’ Martha offered to Mark, who took it reluctantly.

She looked at him admiringly as he sipped his coffee half-heartedly. To Martha, he seemed gloomier and sadder than ever before.

‘There is no harm in telling me what is hurting you Mark’ she ventured.

Without an answer, and without even looking back at her, he walked out of the bakery, annoyed.

He dragged his Christmas tree along with him as he struggled through the snowy path. Of what use is all this, Mark wondered. He had begun ascending the steps when he suddenly caught notice of the post box. Something was protruding from inside, like a parcel. He dropped the tree and rushed to the post box. He pushed his hands into the snow-covered box and pulled out a parcel that was also heavily laden with snow. He rushed to the door and unlocked it.

He sat by the fireplace and removed the snow on the parcel. Even in the warmth of the fire, his hands started shivering. He tore open the brown paper cover and the gift-wrappings. He unpeeled every bit of the covering and then, felt slightly crestfallen.

It was a Christmas present from Martha. He would have liked that gift very much. However, he had expected something else. He stood up and grabbed the crumpled

gift -wrappings to be thrown in the dustbin, as well as the brown paper cover, when he felt something. He felt the brown cover and discovered that something small, thin and square was still covered in snow. He removed the snow and discovered that it was a letter. He peeled it away from the cover and a part of the envelope tore off, though the letter was still secure. The post box had been left open, and it was under the parcel, thus it must have frozen along with it.

He opened the letter with trembling hands and read:

Dear Son,

I am sorry that we had not talked to you for such a long time, as we never wanted you to leave home in the first place. I am also ashamed of the fact that we had not sent you any present or called you on your birthday. Knowing by your behaviour, you must have spent your birthday alone, even refusing to celebrate with others by giving excuses such as the arrival of guests at your place. I should have written this earlier, but I feel that maybe now was the time that God had chosen to bridge the gap in our relationship. Your Christmas present is inside the envelope, dear, which shall remind you of home. Please come and meet us as soon as you can. We are awaiting your arrival...

MERRY CHRISTMAS

With love

Mother

Mark opened the envelope and took out a plastic cover. Inside it was a red maple leaf, dry but beautiful, on the bottom of which was written – to Dear Mark.

On his birthday, after Joe had called, he had answered the doorbell to find a courier person deliver a parcel for him, but not from his parents.

However, on that Christmas Eve, he had received the red maple leaf as a present that reminded him of his own home, his own country. His eyes were full of tears of happiness.

He had received his present and his wish had come true. His red wish had come true.