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SEASON"S GREETINGS


MigL

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Merry Christmas to all, 

I was going to post something here in the lounge and saw this thread, I hope you don't mined me putting it here instead.

Does anyone else have a certain day that comes around every year that makes you wish you could do it over again? That one day a year that makes you feel regret that you didn’t do something to help someone you didn’t know, something that may have completely changed their life going forward. Well, my “do over day” was Christmas Eve 1993. We were working a half day installing an electric sign at a store in a small shopping center in a rather suburban area of town. It had a chain grocery store with a wing of maybe five small businesses off to one side.  I was working outside of one of those small stores when a young gal of about 19 or 20 years of age walked up to a pay phone just a few steps away from where I was working. Anyone who saw her would have said she was very nice looking, or attractive or whatever appropriate adjective you would want use to describe her. You could also tell within a few moments of her talking on the phone that she was a very nice person. I only had to hear her speak a few words, maybe fourteen of them and watch how she responded to the person on the other end to know how caring she was to people.  She was, for the lack of a better word, a sweet person, easy to know and care about. When she walked up to the phone she had a small backpack like college kids would carry and a shopping bag with what was obviously some individually wrapped presents inside. In her other hand was a pie of some sort, not in a box or anything, just a pie balanced in the palm of her hand.  She set the bag with presents down and retrieved some change out of her tan leather coat pocket for the phone, all the while still keeping the pie level and secure.  Her clothes were all very new, and for her age, very in style. Her hair was cut in a very short boy’s style. In fact all of her clothes were obviously from the young men’s section of a high end store.  Her style was very common back then, and still is even today, here in Portland, Oregon  


                      Hi mom,  .  .  .  .  .  .  It’s me,  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .But,  .  .  .  . .  . But,  .  .  .  Can I just come home on Christmas .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .Ok,  .  .  .  .  . Goodbye.  
         She put the receiver away and used the palm of the same hand to wipe her left cheek and then her right eye.  She looked over and saw my concern and gave me the bravest sad smile she could muster up. I didn’t know what to do or say. She gathered her now unwanted gifts, turned and walked off in the same direction she had come from.  After a few minutes I started thinking of all the things I should have said and done. Taken the receiver and told her mom about the sweet young person on that end of the phone that still loves her mom. Tell her how she will dread the thought of this moment someday when she sees how wrong she was. I should have made sure she had some place to go that cold evening to come. Would she have taken my invitation to stay in my home and spend the holiday with my wife and three young children? I will never know the answer to these questions.  I only hope she is now surrounded by the ones she loves and who love her in return, and that her life is now full of happiness. 
 

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