By Regena Handy
The first year I stood at the window looking out at the normally busy roadway. It was not yet dawn and the well-lit area was due to artificial lighting. A faint skiff of snow which fell during the night would likely disappear at the first touch of sunlight.
A lone car drifted by, gliding through the green signal light. I wondered at its destination. Perhaps it is someone that must work today, such as the desk clerk who will check me out later or maybe an emergency worker whose duties know no holidays. It could even be a tired parent searching for an open convenience store because “Santa” forgot to bring batteries for the electronic toy.
It is a far cry from past Christmases, this waking up in a strange location. Every Christmas Eve of my life before this one in 2014 had been spent in a familiar bed — my childhood room, then the houses where my husband and I created a home along with our two sons. Always I had awakened to the knowledge that my loved one were nearby and filled with anticipation of a houseful of relatives awaiting us later in the day.
My husband is still asleep as I ease the hotel door open and head towards the breakfast room. It is empty at this early hour. Taking my coffee cup to a nearby table, I sit where I can watch the sun rise and the city come to life.
Slowly people trickle in, some as sleepy looking as I feel. There are mostly couples my age, the occasional single taking the smaller tables. I wonder about each of their stories, why like me they are spending Christmas at a hotel. I would like to ask them but just as I value my privacy, would not intrude on theirs in such a way.
Through the window the flashing lights of an ambulance catches my eye. It bears the name of a volunteer squad from a distant locality and I think about the families that each member probably left in the pre-dawn hours to help someone in need.
The hospital is nearby and it occurs to me that some of the people staying in the hotel may have loved ones there and will spend the day sitting in a patient’s room. Others could simply be passing through, travelling elsewhere on this day. Its even possible that some are there in an attempt to avoid Christmas altogether. I hope that most are like us and in the area at the kind invitation of family who we will see later.
The scenario has basically been the same for six years now. The sad events that brought the change to our lives are not forgotten. For the old saying about time healing all wounds is only somewhat right — it only eases the pain, making it more bearable.
Here in 2019 as we leave the Comfort Inn and head to the home of our beloved younger son’s family, I think about the reason for the season. A day we’ve set aside to celebrate a child and the love his birth brought to mankind. I count my blessings as I think about the blended group that awaits us — our son and precious grandson, our dear daughter-in-law, who has made us so welcome these past few days, and her family — all of us brought together through the love of our own natural born children.
