Home for the Holidays

The snow fell like feathers after a pillow fight. Single flakes rested gently on his already-white beard, giving it a sparkle matched only by the twinkle in his eye.

He wasn't so much a Santa lookalike as a worldly wise man.

I met him outside the senior residence where I volunteer. I was naturally drawn to him, since I am curious about older folks who appear to have traveled a long, hard road and have something to teach me.

He did not disappoint me. They rarely do.

"Isn't it a perfect day?" he asked.

"If you're a snowman," I replied.

The corner of his mouth turned upward slightly, acknowledging my attempt at humor.

"So what makes it so perfect?" I asked.

"I'm here in the first falling snow of the season with my friends, and although I may appear to be frozen in place, I am warm indeed," he replied.

I looked around and couldn't see anyone else. It left me wondering about his "friends."

"Where are they?" I asked. "The friends you mentioned..."

Raising his right hand he tapped his temple and then pointed to his heart. "Preserved in my memory and held in my heart," he said simply.

"That's where many of my friends reside these days, too," I said. "All too many are gone now."

It didn't take long for me to connect with my newfound friend. I have been moody and melancholy lately, a sure sign for me of the approaching holiday season. It's a mixture of my own memories of family gone and a deep sadness for so many people who are hurting because it is the first holiday without a loved one. I'm guessing he may have been reflecting on the past as well.

"They come back, you know," he said.

"Old friends?"

"Family, too. They come back around the holidays just when you need them."

I felt like he was kindred spirit as I listened to him speak.

"You don't have to convince me, my friend." Then turning toward him, I placed my hand on his shoulder and said, "May I share something amazing that happened to me recently?"

"It's all connected..."
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