Twas 2 weeks before Christmas

Twas 2 weeks before Christmas 
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.