Merry Christmas

The lights are twinkling, and there's a special kind of magic in the air, isn't there? It feels like the whole world is getting ready to be extra kind and happy. I wanted to send you all the warmest wishes as we get closer to Christmas and all the wonderful days that follow. I hope these holidays bring you so much peace and joy, like a cozy blanket on a chilly night. May your hearts be filled with warmth and your homes with laughter, and may the spirit of giving and togetherness shine brightly.

And because this is such a special time, I thought of a little story just for you.

Barnaby Quackley, a duck who lived in a mansion made entirely of shiny, polished acorns, was not a fan of the approaching winter festivities. "Bah, humbug!" he'd quack, fluffing his perfectly smooth feathers. "All this caroling and gift-giving is just… inefficient!" Barnaby believed in the efficiency of everything, especially money. His bank vault, which he polished daily with a silk handkerchief, was always full.

One snowy afternoon, a tiny sparrow, shivering and with a ruffled, sad look, landed on Barnaby’s windowsill. "Excuse me, sir," chirped the sparrow, its voice a mere whisper. "My nest is cold, and my little ones haven't eaten all day. Do you… do you happen to have any spare seeds?"

Barnaby, who was counting his golden acorns, scoffed internally. "Spare seeds? Nonsense! Every seed has its purpose, its value!" He was about to shoo the sparrow away when he noticed the sincerity in its wide, hopeful eyes. A strange feeling, like a tiny, unfamiliar warmth, began to flutter in his chest. He looked at his vast piles of acorns, then at the shivering sparrow.

With a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a faint "humph," Barnaby waddled over to a corner of his vault. He didn't take his most valuable acorns, of course, but he did retrieve a small pouch filled with the plumpest, most nutritious sunflower seeds he had in storage. "Here," he grumbled, pushing the pouch towards the sparrow. "Don't waste them."

The sparrow, overjoyed, chirped a torrent of thanks and flew away. Barnaby, feeling oddly lighter, watched it go. The next day, the sparrow returned, this time with a small, beautifully woven twig. "This is for you, Mr. Quackley," it chirped happily. "It will make your finest perch even more comfortable. Thank you for your kindness."

Barnaby took the twig, and as he placed it on his favorite acorn perch, he noticed something. The twig, though simple, made the perch feel… softer. And the warmth that had fluttered in his chest the day before? It was back, stronger now, and it spread all the way to his chilly beak. He even found himself humming a little tune, a tune he hadn't heard before. It wasn't about counting acorns, but about a feeling, a good feeling.

From that day on, while Barnaby still appreciated his shiny acorns, he also started to appreciate other things – a warm ray of sun, a friendly chirp, and the surprisingly delightful feeling of sharing. He discovered that while money could buy many things, the true riches were often found in the simple act of giving, and the joy that came with it.

I made this story up for you, my dears. Merry Christmas!



Stephie