A Message of Holiday Sanity

Friday, December 12, 2008

Page 11

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

A Message of Holiday Sanity

By J’AMY PACHECO

A few days ago, I decided to make an early morning run to the grocery store. It’s not like I was gung-ho about grocery shopping; rather, I’d just about had it with the pre-holiday crowds that seemed to be everywhere and wanted to avoid them.

It seemed to work. I parked in a nearly deserted lot, and had the grocery store mostly to myself. I was in and out in record time, returning to my lonely car less than an hour after I’d left it.

As I put the groceries in the trunk, I noticed an enormous puddle next to the driver’s door. What was most notable about this puddle was the fact that it seemed to be bubbling. I approached, and realized it was cola. It looked like someone had dropped an entire bottle next to my car, and that it had exploded.

Considering the fact that the parking lot was nearly deserted and there were no cars even close to mine, I was baffled by how it came to be there. Puzzlement turned to annoyance when I realized the driver side of my car had been within range; cola literally dripped off that side of the car.

I was angry. The cola shower came just days after someone hit the driver door of my car with their door – leaving an eight-inch gouge, breaking the paint all the way down to the metal – and driving away without taking responsibility.

I fumed as I pulled half-used water bottles out of my trunk to squirt off the cola. Tossing the empties into the trunk, I wondered how it was possible for someone to accidentally get cola all over my car in a nearly empty parking lot. I cursed them under my breath, adding a curse for the person who had slammed their door into mine days earlier.

As I drove home, I decided a peppermint coffee was just the thing I needed to get over my Grinch-like feelings. I parked outside Starbucks, and crossing the parking lot, I noticed a neatly dressed man carrying two bulging trash bags filled with cans and plastic bottles.

He was headed for a trash can when I offered him the water bottles in my trunk. He was very polite, and seemed a little bit embarrassed. His eyes lit up when he saw the grocery bags, and he sheepishly admitted he’d thought the bags were filled with bottles. I felt terrible about getting his hopes up.

I felt extraordinarily wasteful as I poured water from the remaining partially-used bottles so I could give him more. He accepted them gratefully, and then left.

It was a cold morning, and inside the shop, I realized that I should have offered to buy the man a cup of coffee. But when I went back outside, he was gone. I paid for my coffee and drove around the shopping complex, looking for him. He was nowhere to be found.

Driving home, it occurred to me that perhaps my encounter with the man was a message for me to put things back into perspective. I can’t tell you how selfish I felt realizing I’d been fuming about sticky soda on my car while others are scouring the world for cans and bottles to feed themselves.

It seemed like good timing for a message like that to come through. Christmas is just days away, and as usual, I’m nowhere near ready.

My tree was thrown together so quickly that I know it needs to be re-done. My house needs cleaning, top to bottom, and I haven’t finished shopping for anyone except my daughter.

I’ve got cookies to bake, candies to make, gifts to buy and wrap, food to purchase and garland that needs to be hung on the stair railings. Our little Dickens Village hasn’t seen the light of day yet, and somewhere, a herd of Rodney the Reindeer is crying to be let out of its Tupperware prison.

I’ve got a houseful and a half of guests coming the weekend before Christmas, and I have so much to do to get ready that it was starting to scare me.

Now, I’m asking myself, will my 13-month-old nephew really care of there are golden beads hanging on my tree? Will my 3-year-old niece notice if I put out fudge that is purchased, rather than homemade? Will my mother care if the silver gleams perfectly, or will she just be happy to spend her first Christmas as a widow surrounded by people who love her?

I think I already know the answer, and I believe I found it because of the man collecting cans and bottles outside Starbucks. I hope you can find the same spontaneous moment of sanity this holiday season, and that the coming year is a stable one for all of us. Happy holidays!