Twas
2 weeks before Christmas
by Mary Fahey
by Mary Fahey
Christmas music at the
annual lighting of the Rockefeller Center tree, emanated from the TV. As she
busied herself in the cozy warm kitchen, she hummed along with the boy’s choir
who sang from a platform above the skating rink and below the sculpture of
Prometheus. She had spent the earlier part of the day baking Christmas cookies,
and after they cooled, she gently stacked them in a tin decorated with snow men
and Santa Claus. Her newborn son slept in his crib, her husband would soon
arrive home from work and all was right with the world. She couldn’t be
happier.
The
phone rang. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and picked up the receiver.
“Hello,” she answered brightly. She heard music and
laughter in the back ground.
“Hi,” her friend Dotty giggled. Dotty had been single
since her divorce from an early and unhappy marriage. In their younger days, they travelled
together to dances, movies, shopping and all the activities that teen aged best
friends do. Their friendship felt solid. But now that she had a family and
Dotty had new friends to party with, they had somehow drifted apart.
“Hi Dot. What’s up?”
“I just called to say Merry Christmas. I’m at the office
Christmas party.” She could tell by the slur of her words that Dotty had
perhaps a little too much to drink. Dotty laughed at something someone said out
of earshot of the phone. The muffled sound of a hand gliding over the
mouthpiece and some barely audible talk and laughter ensued. She pictured Dotty
with her shoulder length blond curls and crystal blue eyes surrounded by
admiring men vying for her attention.
“Why don’t you get a baby sitter and join us? It’s so
much fun.” Dotty gushed.
“I
can’t. Dick gets home soon and I’m in the middle of cooking dinner.”
“Oh c’mon. Have a little fun. Leave a note for Dick.”
What an idiot,
she thought but instead said “Wish I could but that’s not possible.”
After some more inane conversation about people and
events she didn’t know, she said, “The baby’s awake; I have to go. Merry
Christmas.” She hung up the phone and felt a pall spread over her previous
jolly mood. A little bit of jealousy at the carefree life her friend seemed to
have, and some self pity at the burden of her life as wife and mother, brought
her down.
Dam Dotty for
making me feel so bad. She should have known that I couldn’t go to the party.
Why did she have to call anyway? Just to laud it over me?
Every year since then, as
she views the lighting of the Rockefeller tree, she remembers that evening that
started with such good feelings only to get dashed to maudlin resentment. With
maturity she realized that the fault didn’t lie with Dotty. She had done it to
herself. She allowed resentment and envy at someone else’s happiness to mar hers. Now, she has come to
feel joy for another’s delight. It enhances her own. A lesson well learned.
