Seemed to Be Ours

Merry Christmas.  Rising to a lovely morning in a Holiday Inn.  I just ducked out to get coffee.  I noticed a plastic gift bag on our door.  A child’s curiosity wrestled with a cynics disregard and I put it on the shelf unopened.  Out in the hall I automatically said “Merry Christmas” to all the other people who were at work instead of where they were supposed to be.  A young man with a butcher’s coat and a Christmas hat on his head confirmed that the coffee was off to the left.  A woman in her fifties with thinning dyed hair asked if there was any more half and half.  “It seems to be . . .”  “Oh.  Let me see there.  Yes.  Nothing left.  Let me go get some more.”  And he dashed off with the thermos.  I was already pumping out the “house blend” into a Styrofoam cup and made way for the lady beside me to who’d checked the thermos as her first stop.  I took my position in front of the thermos.  I would also wait for the half and half.  Looking up there was a heavyset woman, behind the front desk.  She was looking forward and unless she turned she wouldn’t see me.  I considered saying “Merry Christmas” to her as well, through the opening, though I decided to hold my greeting until mutual recognition was established.  I moved my gaze instead rested on the “Employee of the Quarter” award.  Last year the employee who’d one the third quarter award was also employee of the year.  This year the ultimate prize had yet to be decided.

The young man in the white coat took a while but then emerged from behind a tarp where some renovation was marked off.  The work site was certainly dormant this morning. He laid the thermos down and I said: “Thank you.  Merry Christmas.”  I headed back to my room.  A young African American guy with a Christmas hat on, who was I believe the same fellow who checked us in last night, popped in from one of the exits.  “Merry Christmas” I said automatically.  He replied in kind. 

Later after all the presents we walked around at Vassar College.  “That was the longest unsupported branch in the world . . . until they had to put that support up there a few years ago. . . . This here is the Quad. You see there are these four dorm buildings that face the.”  “What about the other two?”  Asked my younger one.  “Yes, well we don’t count those.”  I walked by one of the dorms shaped like a crescent that must have been a blisteringly modern when it was built in the seventies.  We were close to the window when suddenly I realized that there were still students within.  The campus had otherwise seemed to be ours alone. 

Down below the Powerhouse that also serves as the theatre.  We saw another group of people who were heading our way.  They were all talking.  I wished them “Merry Christmas” automatically but they didn’t respond. I considered this for a moment.  Heading back up the hill to where the car was parked I began to consider just now long it was we’d walked. My walking measurement app suggested we’d done six thousand steps, which was less than I’d imagined.  Everyone is ready to head home now.