Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

A couple days ago, my favorite aunt read my mini-essay about old friends who visit at the holiday and it recalled her own special friend. She emailed me to add “The Little Match Girl” to my list.

Ah, Hans Christian Andersen’s little match girl, a story guaranteed to make the reader cry. I hadn’t thought of her in years, but as I write this essay I recall the general flow of the tale. I hope my Aunt Alice corrects me if I miss any pertinent details.

It is New Year’s Eve. The match girl is poor and alone and trying to sell her matches to passers-by. But the night air is cold and most people are already inside their homes celebrating. She stands in a doorway for protection against the elements.

When nobody comes by to purchase her matches, the little girl lights one after another to keep warm. With their temporary relief from the cold, the matches also offer visions of a better life. One, in particular, reveals the girl’s Grandmother, who has passed away. “Oh, Grandmother, take me with you,” implores the girl. And in the morning, the child is found dead with spent matches about her body.

Does this sound like a joyous holiday tale? Of course not. But, although the sadness of the story cannot be denied, its real value lies in helping us remember those who are less fortunate than we are. Every needy person is a little match girl.