Gladys had planned to shut the arcade down earlier then her usual eleven o'clock closing time. All the other establishments in town had wined down their vigorous attempts at satisfying their last minute Christmas Eve shoppers and had sent their wary employees home hours ago. Gladys had anticipated that her youthful clientele would slowly, but surly, vacate the premises, leaving her with little reason to remain open. The little arcade and mini-mart that Gladys managed had always been the favourite drop in centre for the local teens. Most of the young people hung out between the kid friendly, bowling ally and restaurant, making the arcade the third stop in their pyramid of teenage hangouts.
It was now 10 o'clock p.m. Gladys waited for the remainder of the dozen or so kids to shuffle off to their homes. She was in no great rush to have them leave. It was her first Christmas Eve in the Northwest Territories. She was missing her only son who wasn't expected to join her for several months. This mixed bag of native kids had been her only source of companionship since her arrival in town some five weeks earlier.
The atmosphere was festive inside the arcade. Gladys had thrown a small Christmas party earlier in the day for the kids. There were bright coloured balloons and banners hung up between the many video machines and scattered tables. Christmas music mixed itself with rock as she switched between local radio stations and the Jude box. Leftover treats laided in every available nook and cranny. Overflowing trash bags testified to the success of the days party. Gladys had a knack for making people feel welcomed and comfortable. She thought maybe to much so. Nobody ever wanted to leave.
It had crossed Gladys mind that most of the kids that remained didn't have happy home lives from what she could tell. Surprisingly, there had been no enquiring phone calls from anxious parents trying to track down missed children. Perhaps she was inadvertently providing for them what they yearned for most on this very special night. Deciding to let the evening choose it's own course, she set back and stopped watching the clock. They all laughed and chatted the final hour away. It warmed Gladys heart to know the kids were allowing her to participate in their lives in such a personal way. She longed to reach out and make a difference. As it turned out, about six of the youth ended up staying until the usual closing time.
After the kids said their good-byes, Gladys locked up and began her usual closing preparations. She found herself chuckling as she shook her head, " Good thing every day isn't a party, I'd go broke!" She counted the days receipts, a job that didn't take up to much of her time that evening considering she had given most of the kids little reason to be paying customers that day. She decided the clean up could wait until the morning. No rush, after all, what else would she have to do on Christmas day with the place closed?
Suddenly Gladys looked up as she heard a pounding on the glass door. It was little Johnny. One of the last boys to leave just a short fifteen minutes before. He must have forgotten something, Gladys thought. She scanned the tables for any displaced articles as she hurried to let the boy in out of the sub-zero night air. Snow had began falling. Johnny quick bushed by Gladys as she held the door open for the snow covered boy. "I'm glad you're still here," he mumbled. Gladys followed him back into the warmth, away from the drafty doorway.
She allowed him to open the pending conversation. Johnny stepped closer to Gladys and placed an unwrapped box of Pot of Gold chocolates in her hands, then he backed away and placed his now empty hands behind his back. With his eyes focussed on the floor, he shyly said, " This is for you." The cellophane wrapping had been removed from the box, causing Gladys to suspect there might have been something other then candy in it.
"Why thank-you," she said. " How nice of you!" Gladys knew that Johnny lived at least a fifteen minute walk from the arcade. He must have ran all the way home in 40 below temperatures and back to have returned so fast. She opened the box and looked inside. Sure enough, the sweet aroma of chocolate filled her nostrils.
"These are my favourite!" she exclaimed." I grew up eating Pot of Gold," she informed him. "Did you know they are made right in Nova Scotia where I come from?" "Well I hope you don't mind," Johnny said, "My grandmother gave them to me. My sister picked out her favourite ones. That's why there's a few empty spaces." Gladys could feel a lump swelling up in her throat. "Of course I don't mind," she said. "As a matter of fact, why don't you take your favourite kind too." She held the open box out to him. After he had selected one, Gladys placed the box on the counter.
"Would you mind if I gave you a Christmas hug?" she held back her tears. "Well, I guess that would be alright," he said. His little body swaying to and fro. Gladys moved closer and tenderly embraced the little fellow. "Thank-you so much," she quietly said. "This is the best present I've ever had." And it truly was worth more to her then any pot of gold found at the end of a rainbow. It's sweet contents had become a box of Christmas spirit and magic worth it's weight in gold.
