Take Mary For A Walk

“Nothing’s as mean as giving a little child something useful for Christmas.” – Kin Hubbard

“All right. Let’s go do this thing,” Mr. Smith says. He gets up out of the chair, having a visibly hard time of it, using his arms to boost himself up. “Are you ready?”  “Ready when you are, Santa.”  I am worried that Mr. Smith won’t be able to go much further, but he seems to keep up just fine, as we begin working our way down the south hall of the building. Making our rounds takes quite a while, as we stop at every room that we can along the way. The residents are slow, Santa himself is slow, and pretty often he stops to have a long conversation with one person or another. But it is great to see him do his thing. Even though Santa is old and in bad shape, he is doing what he can.

The sight of Santa at Christmastime brings a smile to nearly every face, and I find that I am beginning to feel a bit of the so-called Christmas spirit myself. And, so what if they are old? So what if they are slow, and near to death? I mean, whatever comes after, it is only what was supposed to happen. Isn’t it? Still, it is quite slow. And after a while I become bored. I have almost nothing to do, as we gradually wind our way through the building. Santa rarely lets me do anything for him, grimly insisting on doing it all himself. Only when we reach a certain room, at the very tip of the south wing, does Santa turn to me, handing me the bag of candy. He leans close, and whispers, “Now’s your chance, kid. You hand out the candy in this room.” I am puzzled at this, but I take the bag. Following Santa, I enter the room.

An elderly woman is lying in her bed, looking tired, but clearly trying to stay awake while her family is still present. Sitting in a chair next to her is a woman who I take to be her daughter, and a still younger girl, who I think must be her granddaughter. The girl, of course, is the pretty one that I saw earlier, down at the break room. “Merry Christmas,” Santa says. He rattles a little bell that he has been carrying around, which has the effect of making everyone in the room turn to see him. He steps up to the old lady in the bed, smiling. “And have you been a good girl this year?” “I have, Santa,” she says. “Would you like some candy, then?” This, I know, is my cue. I move closer to let the old lady put her hand into the sack. However, she does not reach into it. “I can’t have sugar,” she says unhappily. “But Mary can. Have some for me, won’t you, dear?”

The pretty girl who is my age stands up, smiling. “Merry Christmas,” I say, leaning the bag close to her. Mary takes out a handful of candy. She smells nice, with some sweet, slightly flowery fragrance that I somehow know I will forever associate with her. “Thanks.” “You seem like a nice young man,” the old lady says, smiling at me. “Why don’t you take Mary for a walk, while we talk with Santa?” “Oh Mother,” Mary’s mother says, scoldingly. “No, that’s fine.” I can feel myself starting to blush a little. I wish that wouldn’t happen all the time in situations like this, but it does. “Would you…like to take a walk?” “Sure,” Mary says, shrugging. Mary and I leave the room, and I can feel my heart start beating rapidly in my chest at the thought of being near her. And that is how I met Mary.

What came after, the heartaches and the great pleasures, too, were still hidden from us. But I will always remember that afternoon when Mary and I first met. And I will always remember the strange role that Santa Claus played in it, bringing me together, in a strange way, with an awfully good Christmas present.”

~ Jeremy Phillips, My Buddhist Christmas