My little boy Noel was sitting on my knee, his eyes shining at the thought of Christmas and of all the presents Santy would be bringing. 'What did you get for Christmas when you were a little boy?' he asked. 'Ah not so much as you now', I smiled. 'But what was your best present ever', he tried again. And his eyes widened when I told him of the night when I received the very best present a child could have and it hadn't cost a penny.

'We were quite poor', I told him. 'Not because the farm was poor, because it's the very same farm as we have today, passed down through the generations. No, it was because my father liked to drink. Not just the odd glass of beer you understand, but to drink until he fell down into oblivion'.
'What's oblivion?' asked Noel.
'Like when you fall down unconscious', I told him.
'Oh', he looked puzzled.
'My mother said it was like a disease, the craving in him', I explained. 'But what about the present?' he persisted.

‘That’s what I am coming to. It was Christmas Eve and my mother was very busy preparing for Christmas as your Mammy is today. She looked tired and tense. The Christmas before had been a nightmare with my father going out on Christmas Eve and getting drunk and he was in a bad mood all the next day. He'd broke a little tractor that I had by throwing it against the wall and calling it rubbish and he knocked the turkey on the floor. My mother had salvaged it but we'd eaten it in silence while my father snored in his chair. We hadn't wanted to wake him up, so's we could have a bit of peace. But on that Christmas Eve we could tell he wanted to go out again and we knew, if he did, that Christmas would be ruined once more.

I was excited though because this was the first time I'd been allowed to go to Midnight Mass. I was supposed to be resting. 'Have you a Christmas wish Kevin?' my mother asked me. 'Because on this Holy Night surely the dear Lord will grant you what you ask'.
I slipped into my cold dark bedroom. I needed to concentrate. The round moon shone like a silver penny in the sky and the frost on the fields glittered in its light. The velvet black sky was so dark and clear that every star shone with an extra brilliance. I wished the most heartfelt wish there could ever have been. 'Dear God, you can tell Santy to keep his ould toys and things, but will you please stop my Daddy from drinking and from the disease and all that, and from making my mother sad'.

And I'd been wishing so hard that I was surprised when I heard the loud knock on the front door and I hadn't even seen anyone come up the path. My mother was shaking hands with a tall, grey haired man with a moustache like a small haystack under his nose.
'Ah Nuala, it's lovely to see you and Daniel too. Are you feeling all right now Dan? You look a bit peaky'. Then he turned to me. 'And here's our Kevin and hasn't he grown into a fine lad. Just look at the size of him'.
I had no idea who he was and my puzzlement must have registered on my face. 'Don't you recognise your old Uncle Noel?' he smiled. 'Mind, you were a little bit of thing the last time I saw you'. And I noticed the look of relief on my parents faces because I'm sure that up until then they had no idea who he was themselves'.

'He was Noel like me then', said my little son. 'He was indeed'.

'Come away in Noel and have a cup of tea', said my mother. 'It's lovely to see you. Will you have one too?', she asked my father. My father looked uneasy. I could tell by the look on his face that he'd been planning to go to the pub. 'Perhaps Noel would like something stronger', he suggested. 'There's nothing in the house. Will you come with me down to Dougan's and have a drop?'
'Couldn't you leave it tonight, when we've guests and all?' asked my mother. My father edged to the door and put his hand on his jacket.
'I promised to meet with someone', he said, though we knew that was just an excuse. 'I'll not come with you, if you don't mind', smiled Noel. 'I've come to see the family'. My father ignored the pleading look in my mother's eyes and put on his jacket. 'I'll see you later at Midnight Mass', he said casually...but we knew he wouldn't be in a fit state like last year and the year before that.

I stood at the lighted window and watched him going down the boreen until he disappeared into the darkness. So that was the end of my Christams wish I thought. When I turned into the room Noel was smiling at me. He wouldn't have been smiling if he could have read my dark thoughts. 'Don't worry Nuala', he said, patting my mother's hand. 'He'll be at the Mass'. My mother looked doubtful, but busied herself making the tea while I chatted to Uncle Noel. He asked me how I was doing at school and what was my favourite subject. 'I was fond of history too', he smiled when I told him that was what I liked best. My mother came back in with the tea. We all looked up in surprise as the door flung open and my father burst into the room, his face as pale as the moon.

‘What’s wrong Dan?' my mother asked anxiously. He closed the door and slumped down into a chair. 'Are you all right Dan?' my mother asked again. 'I…I…I think I saw something out on the road', he stammered.
'What? What was it?'
'I'd just reached the end of the boreen near the main road and a mist came down. I wasn't sure which way to turn and I looked back to see the light of the house. I swear I heard my mother's voice behind me begging me not to go to the pub. It was as clear as if she'd been at my shoulder. And when I looked back at the house I saw a vision of myself as a child watching me go.'

I remembered standing there and how fiercely I wished my father would turn and come home. It was as if I was watching myself. He put his head in his hands.

'God help me - what have I seen?'
Noel spoke to him calmly. 'Perhaps you've just seen an echo of the past. Memories are strong in these old country places, especially where land is farmed from generation to generation. Who knows what the depths of the heart's longing can leave lingering behind. Have a cup of tea now. It'll make you feel better'.
My mother looked troubled. I went with her into the kitchen as she went to fetch another cup.

‘It was me in the window', I whispered. 'It was me looking out. And there was no mist. The stars were as clear as anything'.
'I know darling', she said quietly. 'I think the drink has affected your father's brain'.

They drank their tea and my father revived a little. I dozed in a chair as the grown-ups chatted. It seemed only minutes until my mother woke me and told me to wash and put on my best clothes for Mass. She looked happier than I'd seen her in a long time. She was so proud in church with me and my father beside her and her beautiful voice rang out with joy during the carols. She should have been in the choir but she'd stopped going to choir practice. She'd been too ashamed when she'd heard Mrs. O'Rourke making snide remarks about my father's drinking. Kate Kelly had begged her to come back as she had a most lovely voice, but she couldn't face the gossips.

'When are you coming back to sing with us', Kate Kelly took my mother's arm and asked as we left the church. 'We've sorely missed you Nuala'. Mrs. O'Rourke looked away for shame, though she still had her nose in the air. 'I might see you in a couple of weeks', my mother promised. The night was filled with the happy calls of Christmas greetings as we turned for home. Noel stopped as we reached the road. 'I'll be going now', he smiled. 'I wish you all a very happy and Holy Christmas'. 'Won't you be coming back with us for a bit of supper', asked my mother.
'That's very kind of you but I've other folk to see before I go home', he smiled. My mother looked surprised. It was very late to go visiting. He kissed her cheek, shook hands with my father and bent and kissed my forehead. Despite his bristly moustache I could hardly feel the touch of his kiss but I felt the warm glow that grew from the spot and warmed my whole body. He turned and waved once before he disappeared into the darkness. My father linked my mother and held my hand we went home to the best Christmas ever.

'So what was the present?' insisted my son. ‘It was the gift of hope', I told him. 'The best gift was hope for all the family. And I don't know how, but I'm sure Noel had something to do with it'. My son looked puzzled, but I could see he was thinking it over.
'Did you see Uncle Noel again?' he asked. ‘Well, it was a funny thing. The next day my father said to my mother, 'It was good of your Uncle Noel to call last night', and she said 'I haven't got an Uncle Noel...I thought he was your Uncle'. They hadn't a clue who he was. So when my mother took me to see her Aunt Kitty she asked about the Noels in our family. 'There's none as far as I know', said Kitty; 'The only Noel I ever knew was in your husband's family, but he died many years ago. You wouldn't remember him'. 'What was he like?' asked my mother. 'Oh he was tall and slim. He had grey hair even when I knew him and this moustache that looked like a small haycock under his nose. His birthday was on Christmas Day...that's why they called him Noel. Like Nollaig in Gaelic. Noel is French for Chirstmas you know. A lovely, kind man. He'd do anything for anybody. You'd have liked him'. 'I'm sure I would', said my mother warmly. She placed a finger on her lips so I wouldn't say anything.

My little Noel's eyes were like saucers. 'Did your Daddy get drunk again?' he asked. 'He had only one lapse that I remember', I smiled. 'He hurt his leg badly and he was full of remorse. He said that whenever he felt like a drink he would remember his mother's voice pleading and the sad little boy at the window'.
'Was Noel a ghost do you think?' asked my son.
'I don't know. Perhaps he was himself an echo of the past', I said. 'But he brought me the finest Christmas present I ever had and that was hope, and it didn't cost one penny'.