Margo couldn’t help wondering why one of her favorite television channels had suddenly begun a countdown to Christmas. She loved Christmas as much as anyone, but it was April sixth, Easter had been less than a week ago, and the program director had already scheduled one Christmas movie after another.
Margo’s next question was trying to figure out why she had abandoned her plans for the day in favor of allowing herself to be transported to another place and another time where magic was the norm and fantasy was a way of life.
She didn’t need fantasy to supplement her real life because, except for the little bumps in the road that everyone goes through, her life was happy and fulfilled.
And Christmas, for both Margo and her husband, was always one of the happiest seasons of the year, along with their fall leaf trip for the simple joy of luxuriating in the bounty of color. Christmas meant their annual walk up Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, allowing themselves to be cascaded by the lights, the rightly justified glories of the famous window displays at Lord & Taylor, and the snowflake at 57th and 5th.
The detours to Rockefeller Center, the tree, the ice skaters, and Macy’s – it was all a fantasy turned reality.
Her own senses were jarred back to reality as the snow covered streets of movie land Manhattan melted into a commercial about Botox for migraine headaches.
As she hit the mute button another idea dawned on her – maybe one of Santa’s elves had hopped a shuttle flight and slipped something into the station’s Program Director’s coffee, transporting him to some unknown state of Christmashood – perhaps the euphoria of childhood memories.
As the movie came back on Margo turned off the mute on the remote, settled into a comfortable position on the couch, and thought about how wonderful it would be if every day were Christmas.
