Feliz Navidad

Jorge the Llama blinked a milk chocolate eye. The thick lashes framed a hooded eye; the shape of passion and seduction. His velvet nose twitched. The hair on it was so fine that it appeared velour. He clasped his lip tighter over a slightly yellowed tooth. He was self-conscious of the color and its slight crooked angle. He envisioned himself handsome and perfect- and the tooth was the only stain upon his imagined self.

He hummed softly to himself, swaying slowly back and forth. The lively Christmas lights twinkled at dusk. The mixture of red, green, and blue competed quietly with the sinking sun and its brilliant dusky hues. Nature opposed the man-made display by advertising her radiant evening light. The strand of Christmas lights twinkled and sparkled standing its ground under the splendor of the setting sun.

Jorge stood close to the Christmas tree, the glow of the lights from it seemed to be absorbed by his deep eyes. His dense russet fur did not allow the chill of the evening to creep inside to his thin skin. Although he was a Native of South America, he was well-equipped for the cold weather. His ancestors thrived high in hte Andes Mountain range- living in the old city of Machu Piccu with the great people.

"Feliz Navidad," he crooned softly. And he continued to hum the familiar tune in a tenor voice. The song was sung to him by his mother when he was a boy in Peru. Each year, his family would celebrate Noche Buena. This was a nine day period marking the journey of Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem. In his culture, nativity scenes were rich with images of llamas. The tales of his childhood included a sacred llama which accompanied Mary and Joseph on their arduous journey carrying their few worldly possessions in his pack.

As Christmas memories intermingled with fleeting ones of his homeland, Jorge remember the small mountain village of his birth. Each year at Christmas, the church would offer chocolatadas- a cup of hot cocoa and a small gift- to the poor children of the community. This symbolized the offering of gifts to the poor Son of Virgin Mary at his birth. His was a culture rich in tradition and customs.

Across the street from his paddock, on the lawn of the neighbors house, the sound of children laughing rose above his soft singing. He carefully reached his long neck forward to observe its source. There, he saw a great snowperson- arms flying wildly. The soft whir of a motor whined as the air compressor repeatedly forced air upwards into the body of the nylon figure.  The children resembled miniature snowpersons as they danced around the large white figurine. A soft wind from the west kicked up and the snowman swayed slightly in its embrace. His wide grin did not change.

The mini-snow children were covered from head to toe in heavy, quilted outdoor winter clothing. From their mittens to their boots, they were tiny replicas of the great abominable snow people who lived near Jorge's village in the Andes.  Their laughter tinkled shrilly across the street to his ears. The mother of the children snapped her digital camera and it's flash exploded in a white burst momentarily.

Jorge decided the Christmas spectacle of the Americas was an odd one indeed. He slowly retracted his long neck behind the pine tree and its tent of colored lights. Swaying to an internal rhythm, he began to hum once again..

"Feliz Navidad."