(24) Room in the Inn

Reaching up with one of my numbed hands, I pull a stray piece of my hair back behind my ear. The winds of the afternoon are merciless as they billow around weary New Yorkers returning to the office after a somewhat diminutive holiday vacation. I pass various shops with the strands of cheery lights still hanging in windows that welcomed customers only a week before. Crowds of people searching for the perfect gift no longer drift into their doors but rather groups of men and women who are returning imperfect ones. Earnest Santa Clauses with rusty bells and large buckets still adorn each street corner and Christmas melodies continue to float through the air from near Rockefeller center, but passerby’s are no longer are as eager to drop their loose change and the happy feeling of laughing skaters is no longer present. I sadly find that the cliché warm and happy holiday city is now back to its cold and monotonous self even when the great Christmas tree is still up and wreaths are still hung on all the lamp posts. The decorations are still there, but something is definitely missing.

As I wrap my warm multicolored scarf more tightly around my neck, I reflect on how diverse the holiday of Christmas is from other special days. What is it about the month of December that causes such a change in society for a short period of time? Why do people find it okay to drink eggnog near Christmas but detest the thought of downing a glass any other day of the year? I mean eggnog? What is that? And why does the month of December promote the same old Christmas carols that have been sung since who knows when and still haven’t lost their pizzazz. Would anyone just smile and join in the chorus of a tune about a made up reindeer that just happens to have a glowing red nose that amazingly is able to cut through fog on a cold winter evening if it didn’t connect to the spirit of Christmas? I mean, come on, “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way” is a far fetch from the chorus of Eminem’s The Way that I am, but yet everyone still traditionally sings it happily.

As my father calls a cab and I place my shopping bags in its trunk, I think about how this change isn’t only in taste but in heart. Warmth somehow encompasses the world in December, which causes a man laden with packages to let a woman with only a few parcels step in front of him in a store line, and a businessman to empty his suit pockets for the purpose of charity. For some reason it’s considered acceptable for one to wish a foreigner on the street a merry Christmas or the cashier checking out one’s groceries a happy holidays. What’s even more amazing is that near this time of gift-giving and receiving this foreigner or cashier will wish the other glad tidings of joy back, when chances are if during any other month a smile or greeting to a complete stranger would seem out of the ordinary and in some cases improper. Now that it is a few days after the climax of the holiday though, everything is back to the way it was before.

I gaze out the window at the mobs of different people and think to myself how Christmas seems to be the last guaranteed source for good in the world. Near the twenty-fifth of December one can almost be positive that there will be a calm and peaceful feeling through out the community. For a few days people try to become more compassionate and think more about their families and how to help a person in need. More people attend mass on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning than any other day. Don’t get me wrong, the way the majority of the people are so kind and sensitive during the holidays is wonderful, but what I don’t understand is, why do people believe they have to be warm hearted and caring only after the first few weeks of December roll by? Why can’t the general public be more giving and understanding citizens the rest of the year?
The desire for positive change is a terrific trait that should not only occur during the holidays, but year round. Who can’t let another person ahead of them in line just because they know they could use the extra time in the month of April? What passenger a board an airplane isn’t able to let a single mother with her screaming infant take his ticket in first class so she can sit down and relax just for once in coach during October? The need for charity should not just come during Christmas, everyone should want to be a better person every day of their lives. The majority of the population, including myself, seem to forget this and perhaps the most important times for a humble heart are not on December 20th or 24th. The naked still need to be clothed during the spring and the hungry still are yearning to be fed in the fall. A person doesn’t need a holiday to take the opportunity to let someone know how much he or she really means to them.

As I step onto the train and sit down I feel great disappointment in myself. If only people could under the great mistake that I have just realized. The metro north lunges forward and I finally find warmth in it’s closed doors as scenes of tall skyscrapers and taxis whir past my eyes. My feet ache from walking down numerous streets taking advantage of the amazing after-Christmas sales and my eyes seem to droop without effort. My father rustles opens up a New York Times and I lay my head back on the cushion of the seat and peer around the car.

It is crowded as usual with various groups of people chatting and silently staring out the windows. The train creaks to a stop as another mob of people burst inside, seeking warmth from the bleak winter air outside. A gentle woman entering particularly catches my eye. She is not too old, probably in her late twenties and she walks awkwardly through the revolving doors, carrying most likely a nine-month old baby in her rounded stomach. Her hair is short and pulled into a pony tail and her skin is fair and smooth. Shopping bags hang from both of her arms and her eyes look tired but have an unmistakable sparkle to them.

Watching her peer nervously around the train car in vain for a vacant seat, I wait for someone to see her need and offer her their spot. A few glance up at her, but continue their conversation with the person next to them or glance back down at their magazine. The woman sadly realizes that no one understands her desire for comfort when she is already full with child, and resorts to wrapping her cold hands around a pole for support.

As the train speeds away from the stop, I suddenly think about the resemblance. “Six thousand years later, and there’s still no room for her in the inn.” I think to myself as I stand up. My feet beg to be relieved of my weight and I have never wanted to sit down as much as I do this moment, but I will have better comfort knowing I have lent a helping hand to someone in great need.

“Excuse me Ma’am, would you like to take my seat?” I ask her cheerfully. I motion behind me and step away from my source of relaxation.

She looks at me with a warm smile. “Oh are you sure dear? I don’t want to…”

“Oh I’m positive. Please sit down.”

I watch her slowly ease herself next to my father and the joy that I feel is indescribable. I hold tightly onto the metal pole as I realize the woman finally is falling asleep. Her face is soft and peaceful as she breathes gently in with her head resting against the cushion and I am grateful that she has given me an opportunity to change.

I resolve to remember this day for the rest of my life. As we reach the train station back in town, I decide that I am going to go against tradition. Even though it is after Christmas, I am going to try to keep this spirit of giving alive for months after. I am going to try to be a better person every day of my life and not on a convenient holiday. “This time there was room at the inn!” I say to myself and step off the train with burst of prolonged holiday happiness.