The Christmas Penguin by Franco Machado-Pesce
The green and scarlet Christmas lights that hugged every branch of the Butterworth family tree glowed through the frost coated window. The blizzard made it almost impossible to see anything outside except for an endless sea of white. Luckily for the Butterworth household, a warm fire was always burning inside the brick fireplace.
William Butterworth sat eagerly in the corner of the room as he saw the rest of his family gather around the pine tree. He loved watching the Butterworth children scurry around the room, placing both new and old Christmas ornaments on every table, crevice, and window of the manor. Mr. and Mrs. Butterworth sat on the leather sofa with a cup of hot chocolate in their hands. A tempting mint aroma filled the air as it rose with the cocoa’s vapor. Oh, how young William wished that he could move from his corner to taste the sweet drink’s joy. Or how much he would like to help the other Butterworth children decorate the beautiful Christmas tree every year, but sadly he was bound to his spot. As much of a delight as it was for him to observe his family during the holidays, it was also a time of great longing for the Christmas penguin.
At last, the alluring white star was rested on the tip of the tree by John, the youngest of the Butterworth kids. A smile brighter than all the lights combined gleamed out of his mouth as his father set him back down to absorb the tree’s resplendent glory. William wanted to clap his flippers for the child, but unfortunately he could only do this in his mind. Sadness came upon the Butterworth penguin again for all he wanted was to feel like he was more than just another holiday ornament in the Butterworth family. William wanted nothing more than to experience Mrs. Butterworth tuck him in on Christmas Eve to then wake up and hug his family on Christmas morning. What he thought was a smile started to break the mold of his face when Rosie Butterworth held her little brother to congratulate him on his decorative achievement. His stiff ceramic heart began to pound quickly as he imagined the warmth of Rosie’s embrace in his fantastical Christmas dream. It was short-lived though, for William knew that it could never happen. Or so he thought, until the night stars started to envelop the midnight winter sky.
The holiday bird closed his eyes and waited for the sleep to clasp him in its grasp, but the sound of bells jingled throughout the living room. Startled, William’s eyes opened in shock as he heard footsteps coming from above. These weren’t the common steps of the Butterworth family, William was already too acquainted with the sound of their movement and felt something different about these stomps. These were heavy and would drag on the ground unlike the light patter of the Butterworth family’s feet. Suddenly, a rush of fearful adrenaline filled the penguin. What if it’s a robber he thought?! Oh no, what would happen to the decorations? It was getting closer and closer, with the chimes getting louder and louder. Not even the cold made William tremble as much as this fear was. Then, on the final loud clash from the bells, he saw him.
In front of the bird, was a rather large and ancient man in a brilliant red suit. His white beard grew out from underneath his ears, wrapped around his chin, and touched the first button of his jacket. The man wore leather boots that wrinkled from constant use and a trail of snow and wet footprints came into William’s sight. No wonder his footsteps were so heavy! On the archaic gentleman’s back was a large, beige sack that hung from his shoulders. Could it be? Is it the man from the stories? The man released the bag and let it settle on the floor before he released a very loud puff.
“I’m getting much too old for this,” his calming voice resonated in William Butterworth’s ears. He could not help, but look up at him in awe. “Oh, well what do we have here?” The man’s large hands lifted William so that their eyes could meet. The penguin found an unexplainable comfort from gazing into the man’s hazel-colored eyes. A sentiment of warmth overwhelmed the Butterworth bird and began to settle into his ceramic build to give him a cheerful sensation.
“You must be William Butterworth,” William couldn’t believe it, “prized treasure of the Butterworth family and a believer in the power of holiday spirit,” William wanted to reply, but both physically and mentally, was unable to do so. The penguin was too nervous to respond to the inspiration of his idolatry. “Well?”
I’m sorry, sir. William finally replied, I just couldn’t believe it was you. It really is you right? Santa?The old man let out a gentle roar of a laugh in reply.
“Oh, my dear child, I believe you already know the answer to that,” he winked.
Why are you here? It’s not even Christmas yet. William tried to get over the fact that his hero sat in front of him, but was stunned by his ability to also comprehend his thought.
“I don’t just deliver gifts on Christmas, William. This-” he pats his large belly, “is a full time job.” If the penguin could laugh, it would have been neverending.
But, Santa, I still don’t understand. Why are you here tonight? Asked the confused little penguin.
“I’m here, little one, because I heard your wish,” he smiled.
My wish?
“Yes, William,” he laid the bird back on the ground, “and I want to do something to help you.”
But, I don’t understand, what have I done to deserve this? William Butterworth was in shock. The infinite thoughts travelled through his mind mixed in with just as many questions. What did Mr. Claus have in mind?
The jolly Saint Nicholas sat down next to the penguin on the loved leather sofa. He shifted in his seat to get his large belly to synchronize with the comfort that the rest of his grandiose body felt.
“You are not serious, are you William?” Santa leaned closer to the William, “you must know that you are one of the most well-behaved Christmas ornaments out there.” The penguined was smacked with another sensation of surprise for how could ornaments misbehave in the first place? They couldn’t move so it should’ve been impossible, but the thought made the black-and-white bird laugh in his mind. Santa’s laugh bellowed through the hall, shaking the Chandeliers that hung from the ceilings.
“All jokes aside Mr. Butterworth, I believe that you should experience that warmth that you’ve always wanted,” Santa dug through his bag until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a small Snow Globe. In it was a circular picture frame, but it was empty.
What is this Santa? Asked the penguin. The joyous man crept down from the sofa and stared into the empty holes that were William’s eyes. For the first time, it was not the ceramic animal that felt warmth, but the Christmas manifestation himself that felt a small flame warm up in his heart.
“In this Snow Globe, you can see your family and yourself in a life where you can move, and play, and drink hot chocolate,” he sets it on the rug and an image started to form through the mist of the artificial snowflakes. William could see Rosie and John scrambling down the stairs and tearing open presents and their parents watched from their chairs. Then a small animal sled through the carpet and into the tree, causing the kids to grab their stomachs from laughter. Out pops William Butterworth from the pile of Christmas wrapping paper with a small little box in his flippers. A smile conquers both ends of his beak as he waddles into Rosie’s arms.
“It’s very nice isn’t it?” said Santa.
Very much so, Santa. A coziness swept William as he imagined the arms of the girl engulf him. He continued to look into the globe and then saw John give him an enthusiastic high five. The laughter from the family reverberated in Williams actual ears as his imagination took over his mind. The globe game him a constant look into his dreams, but a melancholy crept upon William. This wasn’t real.
“What’s wrong little penguin? You don’t like it?” Santa pondered.
Oh, I’m sorry Santa. It’s not the gift. I love it, it’s just that it’s not real. There was moment of silence as those thoughts settled. Thank you for thinking about me, sir, but I don’t think I need it. This caught the joybringer off-guard and after a couple seconds, a grin materialized on his face. I love being able to look at my grandest dreams, it truly makes me happy and oh it feels so amazing to always be able to see how happy my family is, but I’d rather see my family in front of me celebrating. Their genuine happiness, even without me physically being able to hold them in my- William moves his wings- is more important and brings me more happiness than watching them through the crystal ball.
“So you rather be in this very corner, watching observing your family?”
If that’s okay. I’m just grateful to even be a part of this family in the first place. I’m truly so honored that you thought of me, but I now realize, that I love my family as we are.
Santa’s smile grew until his cheeks started to shine a glowing pink.
“Don’t apologize, William. I believe that this very night you have learned what the value of real happiness and gratitude is, and that is what true holiday spirit is,” he stroked the animal’s hard ceramic head, “and that is the most important gift that I could have ever given you.” When these words vanished from his mouth, William swore that he could feel his beak form a twinkling arch.
Thank you, Santa, truly. The Christmas icon winked and started to stomp his way out of living room. The beams from the Christmas tree emphasized the bag's shadow into an intense silhouette. The sound slowly disappeared, leaving the penguin to his thoughts. However, the dainty animal soon fell asleep, to dream of the children once more.
The morning sun shone its rays that gleamed through the window that woke the tiny penguin. A catchy tune echoed in the house as Mrs. Butterworth began playing her favorite vinyl. She believed that music always sounded better on vinyl and William had to agree. Each note had a special ding to it that left a lovely resonance in his ears. Then a rush of feet shuffled down the halls and ran into the kitchen, laughing and full of energy from their refreshing slumber. Rosie started to retell her dream dramatically as John started to act her story out. William could not see any of this, but he knew that if he did it would make him the happiest holiday penguin in the world, and for him, that’s all that mattered.
