The Gift of the Moment

The village square was quiet in the early evening, snow blanketing the cobblestones and muffling the usual sounds of daily life. A tall fir tree stood at the center, strung with glowing lights and ornaments that swayed gently in the crisp air. I stood there, admiring the scene, when an elderly man approached, carrying a small bundle in his hands.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, nodding toward the tree. “People rush around so much during the season, they forget to stop and take it in.”

He opened the bundle to reveal a simple wooden ornament—a star, hand-carved and sanded smooth. “I made this years ago,” he said, his voice soft. “Each year, I add it to the tree. Not because it’s special, but because it reminds me of the real gift of Christmas: being here, in the now.”

He handed it to me, and together we placed it on a low branch. For a moment, we stood in silence, watching the lights twinkle against the darkening sky.

As he turned to leave, he smiled. “The season isn’t about what we give or get—it’s about what we notice, and what we share in the moment.”

I stayed there a while longer, watching the snow fall softly around the glowing tree, feeling the weight of his words settle into my heart.