Searching for Christmas

In every little space

I feel un-tethered this holiday season. I feel decidedly more middle of January than almost Christmas. I hear the music and I feel a teeny spark, usually the spark shows up when the music is from the Christmases of my childhood. Those magical times when I was loved, pampered, listened to, adored and made to feel as if magic was in the air. Made to feel this way by all the adults who were in on the magic. I would like to think that one little thing made the magic all that much closer for them. It was the whole package for me.

We pull up to the cookie store, because they have those down here, and we can. We get out of the car and I hear Bing singing about a white Christmas as I stare at palm trees and a giant parking lot full of people looking to buy Christmas. As we sat in the car eating $4 cookies, thinking of shedding clothes because it was getting warmer by the second, listening to the music piped throughout the parking lot, did I feel Christmas? Was it close? Maybe for a second. As we walked across the astro-turf public space at the upscale shopping center, I see Santa’s sleigh at the far end, sitting forlornly in the morning’s sticky heat. We see 2 ladies, one taking a picture of the other in the sleigh. We kindly ask if they would like us to take a picture of both of them. The pretty blond in the sleigh says yes immediately. The brunette with the short curly hair snaps a hard, snotty VERY unfriendly “No, I never get my picture taken”. Well then. If ugly could break cameras, then her inside ugly would do the job. I answer in the holiday spirit as we walk away “Merry Christmas!” then utter under my breath about a female dog or some such. Hubs says she must be from New York. I concur. Apologies to those from that area for the typecasting. I get that.

After walking around the shopping center we head to the car but get side tracked by a wood fired pizza store. Because they have those down here and we can. I notice a little black boy cleaning the furniture madly. He has a bent spine and walks with a walker and had a box of wipes sitting on the walker seat. He was terribly misshapen, his eyes even with my stomach. But, as he scuttled around, he had a proprietary air of knowing his job and doing it well. Hubs sat outside and I waited inside for the order. He finally comes inside and stands by me and I watch this boy see Hubs and his face lights up and gives him a big toothy smile. He reminds me, in that moment, of all the kids I have seen in Africa. Whether it was running alongside our rig, happy to see visitors and hoping for a treat, to Hubs trading the actual socks he was wearing through the truck window to a smiling kid who gave him a crudely carved warthog in return; to the students a friend and I interacted with at a school in Namibia who had nothing, but they were happy. The school children were all dressed in uniforms and played on a red dirt playground, but they were proud of their accomplishments and told us one by one what they liked best about their school.

As this little boy smiled at Hubs, I mentioned it to him. He told me that this boy was named Zee, and he had spoken to him outside as he was cleaning up the outdoor dining furniture. Zee told Hubs that he could go to Google and review the pizza restaurant and maybe give a shout out to him as well. Very sweet boy and he was proud of his work and just did it. And his smile…maybe that was Christmas.