It was a cold and early December afternoon three days after Christmas; I stayed late that Sunday to help take the decorations down from the church walls. As darkness filled the sky, the clouds that were blocking the sun’s rays started to let down light snow flakes and quickly picked up frequency. Within the next ten minutes, the small snowflakes quickly accumulated to form a blanket of white that spread across the ground as far as the eye could see. Six miles away from my house, a figure appeared seemingly out of thin air like some sort of magician. Little did I know that this man would be the difference of a good day to an astonishing December.
The strange man was standing around 6’6” 275lbs and seemed to have no home with very little clothing. This man caught my eye with his hand out in the road and his thumb pointed north. Having just moved in to this small town in Georgia two months prior, I had not acquired many friends at that moment except for the overwhelmingly friendly church choir. My closest family member was close to eleven hours away in Sophia West Virginia so needless to say I spent a fairly lonesome Christmas in my new apartment with my dog, yogi. But nonetheless I figured I might as well give back to someone who was seemingly down to his last fifty sense, quarters in which he needed to buy a haircut with.
As I rolled up the peculiar man I noticed there was something familiar about him I just couldn’t put my finger on. I thought for sure I’ve seen that fluffy white cloud of a beard somewhere but only in pictures. Whatever it was for some odd reason it gave me a sense of security. “My car has to be warmer than it is out there,” I exclaimed to the man as I invited him in. He looked at me and grinned with a chuckle under his breath that gave off the same familiar feeling as the cloud on his face and stepped in the car. As we pulled off I introduced myself and in return I ask him for his name as well. “I am a man of many names but you my friend may call me Nick,” says the man. “Well Nick,” I exclaim, “are you going anywhere in particular. The man responds back with a slight shake of the head and answers, “I have nowhere to go.” As we continue to drive I start to hear a deep moan come from the man’s belly. “We are almost home. I’ll fix you something to eat when we get to my apartment.” Even though his stomach was in desperate need of food, his face displayed a look of drowsiness as if he had not slept in a week. Although this looked rather suspicious, I gave Nick the benefit of the doubt and took him in for food, new clothes and a place to stay for the night.
As we walk upstairs to the third floor of the apartment, the only sound that rang out was the sound of the man’s heavy tattered boots making contact with the cold metal of the staircase. We walk in the door and Nick wastes no time to prance toward my couch and plop face first in between the cushions where he fell asleep almost instantly. As I walk toward the kitchen I laughed under my breath and couldn’t help but let the old man sleep. I’m sure to keep quiet as I pull a pot out of the bottom right cupboard and start to boil the water I ran. The only sound to be heard was the slight crunch of spaghetti noodles in my hand every three seconds.
Nick awakens three hours later to the succulent smell of spaghetti and garlic rolls with grin on his face from ear to ear. To this day I can honestly say I’ve never seen one man go through a plate of food as fast and as furiously as he did. Seconds turned into thirds and soon the entire pot of spaghetti was completely abolished as if it had vanished within a matter of 8 minutes. “How about we get you into some new, more comfortable clothes?” I ask as he takes his last bite of his dinner. I concurred that Nick was a man a few words as his reply was a faint shake of the head as he murmured the two words “thank you.” I dressed him in a new flannel shirt and some blue jeans with a pair of my old work boots to keep his feet warm. How convenient was it that we had the same size shoe? Nonetheless, I offered the man a place to stay for the night which he gladly accepted without hesitating.
“How was your Christmas?” the man asks as I clean the residue off the plates and spaghetti pot.
“I didn’t have much of a Christmas this year,” I reply. “I just moved into this town two months ago from…”
“West Virginia,” the man finished as if he knew what I was going to say.
“How did you know that?” I ask confusingly
“I use to live in Sophia, and you looked familiar; so I took a lucky guess.”
Dazed and confused at that moment, I recommended we both try and get some sleep. It was obvious we were both tired and weren’t really good for anything at the moment.
“I’ll take you to McDonalds in the morning for breakfast if you’re willing to wake up early enough,” I suggested as I start to walk toward my bedroom. The Man silently agreed as he simultaneously moves into the living room. I felt a little sketchy letting a random stranger sleep in my apartment, but I had gut feeling deep inside that this was going to be ok. After all, good things happen to good people right?
The next morning I awoke at sunrise, as I usually do during the week. Not a sound came from my living room which gave me the impression that Nick was still asleep. I didn’t bother waking him up as I was sure that this was his first time sleeping on cushioned sofa in forever. I raced in my bathroom to take a quick shower before we leave for breakfast. What I find in return were the clothes I lent the man hanging from my towel rack. Worried and confused I quickly paced into the living room only to be met by an abundance of neatly wrapped gifts and presents scattered around the floor and on the couch Nick had slept on the night before. I never felt as weak in the knees as I did in that moment. As I looked at the tags hanging from the gifts I couldn’t help but drop to my knees in prayer as the packages were all addressed to me. Lying on the couch beside a bunch of other small boxes was a note that read as followed
“Dear Patrick,


I’m sorry to hear about your fairly lonesome Christmas. I hope this is enough to make up for your troubles and the plate of food I destroyed last night.
Merry Christmas,
Saint Nicholas