New Christmas Tradition

Maybe it is tradition or nostalgia, or perhaps tradition is just nostalgia with routine. Whatever the case, you had your heart set on viewing the train set display at the hardware store near Main Street. Every year you and your father would venture out during the holidays to ogle the miniaturized village, complete with plastic denizens. Each little figure was specifically crafted to perform a particular task. Obviously, someone had consciously placed each figurine in a predetermined location; they were all meant to be there. You noticed they were never quite alone, always paired off with another or belonging to a small group. All of them were interacting with each other in some way, none of them isolated.

The train would pass through the German-styled village and continue on to the forest and mountains until descending near the resin lake below and circling back to the village again. As a child, you pondered the accuracy of the of the hand-crafted Bavarian landscape. Was it cold? What were the people like? Were they always working? The villagers were all crafted with purpose, each of them having a unique task at hand. Although these thoughts did re-enter your mind, the state of despair overtook you. Your father had passed away a few months prior and this was the first Christmas you will spend completely by yourself. You never chose to be alone; you just are. The villagers’ busyness and simulated chatter amongst each other only exasperated the dreaded sound of loneliness. And the sound was God damning. Was this what being truly alone is like? Watching others display their lives while you remain paralyzed in pity?

You decided you had been staring long enough and that it was time to depart. You can always make the decision to return at any time. You turned away and started walking towards your home a few blocks away. It was snowing and the ground crunched dully with each step satisfying as the snow packed under your feet. One and then the other. The noise was ostracized, with occasional interruptions stemming from a dull wind. It was nighttime and you decided it was best to go then…to be alone. No one would bother taking a stroll outside, especially while it’s still snowing. At this time, everyone was probably snuggling up with their loved ones watching some animated Christmas special. Hell, you can see silhouettes near each other in several windows of the colonial style homes lining Fifth Street. You notice a billboard advertising for a Christmas sale on furniture. The ad showed a family of four in matching green and red sweaters smiling on a couch. Around this time of year, everything advertised being with and the importance of family. Every year, some spokesperson for a large corporation says, “From our family to yours, Happy Holidays!” Every year, some comedian makes a joke about the pathetic losers buying prepackaged meals from the grocery store. Every year, some sappy movie about a big city, busy, lonely lawyer moving to a small town only to find her true love then for her to reflect to the audience about how she now feels complete because she found someone.

Maybe you didn’t want to be alone, after all. Maybe you desperately wished that there was some sort of companion, any companion, to break this isolating curse. Everyone needs someone during the holidays, right? Be careful what you wish for. You were lost in your thoughts when you stopped to sneeze. That’s when you heard the second pair of footsteps behind you. Realizing you’re no longer isolated, you glance back and see someone maybe 50 feet away. That took you out of your trance and you picked up your pace. The consequences of being lonely is that there is always someone who is willing to take advantage of that. The pit in your stomach fidgeted about anxiously and immediately dropped when you felt the worst feeling in the world, and it wasn’t an emotion. It was a hand on your shoulder and a knife pressed against your back.

“I’ll make this easy and simple: just give me everything and we won’t have any issues.”

Shaking and without question, you start to reach for your wallet. Just minutes before, you were attempting to make a Faustian deal to end your loneliness and now, ironically, you just want to be completely alone. Maybe this was the Devil’s work answering your pleas. You felt the stranger grip their hand on your coat and thought it useless to attempt to flee. What happened next felt like a Christmas miracle, or maybe someone was watching over you like you were watching the display case. A car turned a corner and was slowly driving over the snow-covered road towards you both. You contemplated making a hasty decision to get the attention of the driver, but to your surprise the car stopped and started honking. The assailant quickly departed into the darkness, wherever they were going was no concern to you. You were still riding the adrenaline, when the car pulled up next to you and the owner lowered the window.

“I was just going out for a drive, checking out the Christmas lights and for some reason I turned over on this street. I didn’t mean to, and I guess something told me something was weird between you two. That’s when I saw his knife and honked. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit shaken up.”

“You shouldn’t be walking alone at night when it’s this cold. Do you need a ride?”

“Yeah. That would be great! I’m just two blocks down the road."

You hop in their car and the kind stranger drops you off at your brownstone townhouse. After ensuring your front door was locked at least three times, you briefly reflect on the evening’s events. For whatever your intent was (be it nostalgia or tradition or just an escape), you went to the hardware store. Did the robber have any intention on going out and threatening you? The driver had no intent on turning on that street; that part they made clear. “Something told me something…”. That line stuck with you humorously. No one meticulously placed any of them there; they weren’t a bunch of figurines or a thoroughly planned out advertisement of a family in which no one is related to each other. Effectively, none of them had any purpose for being there in the first place.

You call the police and give the description of where you were and what happened. When they left, they had slammed the door and the noise stayed with you. It echoed but not in the room, only in your head for a few seconds. The slam was abrupt like a director yelling the final “cut” when all of the lines were finished and there was nothing left to say. The two officers had been fairly loud and boisterous, and the silence was rather welcoming. For the first time all day, being left by yourself has given you relief instead of misery. After all, it’s better than having a knife in your back. You sit on your couch and decide to go ahead and watch that animated Christmas special with a newfound, conscious appreciation for being alone.