I grimaced with annoyance as the large, brown wrapped parcel jarred against my arm. After weeks of shopping in heated malls, dressed in heavy boots and jacket, with perspiration clinging to me, I had finally accumulated the contents of my gift list. They were about to be sent off.
It wasn’t that I was joyless but standing in line was not my favorite thing, the parcel was heavy and the string was cutting off the circulation in my fingers.
The Post Office was trimmed with glittering garlands, bright bows and rainbow coloured lights. The dull green walls faded somewhat before this Christmas finery but the dark counters and boot-printed floor did little to complement the holiday colours. I waited impatiently as the line moved slowly ahead. Finally the line in front of me only contained one person. An obviously handicapped man moved slowly to the wicket. Carefully he placed an opened envelope on the counter and slowly tugged at his wallet pocket.
“Hi Tommy” welcomed the girl at the wicket. “Want me to fix your letter.” She carefully attached the Christmas stamp on it. “That will be 55 cents,” she noted.
Tommy counted out the change in a laborious manner and I felt a twinge of antagonism as I sighed and waited impatiently. By this time my parking meter had probably run out and I was mentally adding the cost of a ticket to the cost of the postage. With difficulty Tommy stowed his wallet in his back pocket and turned to leave.
“Wait Tommy” called the clerk. She grinned and pushed a basket filled with home-made baking across the counter. “Have a Merry Christmas.”
“For me”, he whispered. “Well, thanks”. He shuffled towards the large glass door, holding the basket carefully in front of him.
There was complete silence in the post office as eyes met and weary strangers shyly grinned at each other. Suddenly the room seemed sunnier as hearts were touched by the simple gesture of good-will. Somehow my heavy parcel seemed lighter as I shifted it to the counter.
I grinned widely to the clerk. “They are for my grand-children”, I announced, as to an old friend. “We’ll make sure they get them.” She reassured me as she weighed them.
I swiftly decided the amount quoted seemed a small price to pay for the joy the gifts would bring and I’d forgotten about my parking meter ticking out the minutes. I headed towards the doors and looked back. “Have a Merry Christmas.” I called to those still in the line-up.”
“Merry Christmas” they replied and I smiled back. For a tiny space of time we had shared together the real meaning of the season.
