In which it is that time again, dear readers
'Tis the season to contemplate the glory of bad nativities. This has become an annual tradition in our house, like watching "A Christmas Story" or eating roast beef and Yorkshire pudding on Christmas Day. My personal vote for bad nativity is anything with fiber optics or faux marshmallows.
The rest of this post is from a blog entry posted on the original Blog A Go-Go on December 26, 2007. I am reposting it here because it is one of the loveliest travel memories I have, and because I like to think that at this wonderful holiday time of year, angels or fairies or elves might really walk among us.
In which I am blessed...
Not figuratively, although I am aware of the fact that I lead a charmed life. No, I was ACTUALLY blessed on my way home from Houston on Saturday. I had a layover in the Charlotte airport--an airport I actually love. It's small enough to traverse in less than fifteen minutes, even in heels, and they have Cinnabon. I don't eat them, but I could LIVE off of the smell.
Anyway, I went to make a purchase at an airport shop and the clerk who helped me was like something out of a fairy tale. She was tiny--I am less than five foot five and I could see the top of her head. She had white hair neatly spun into a tiny bun, like candy floss, and her eyes were the most beautiful, startling shade of blue. She looked up at me and smiled, her entire face crinkling into laugh lines. "Yes, my darling, can I help you?" Her accent was thick and completely unplaceable, although I think Eastern European would not have been too far afield. Altogether she looked like Mrs. Claus.
I gave her the merchandise and she paused, looking at my face intently. "You are special," she said suddenly. I blinked at her in surprise, but I smiled back. "Thank you." She shook her head. "No, my dear. You are special. I know. Tell me, what do you do?" "I am a writer," I told her. "And what have you written?" (This next part is one of the coolest things I have ever been able to do, seriously.) I pointed to the books stacked on a display to the side. "That book there, Silent in the Grave. I wrote that." She nodded. "And have you written anything else?" "Yes, I have written two more books in the series."
She stared at me a long moment, then rang up my purchase and took my money, counting back my change. When she handed it to me, she stared at me again, looking right through me. "Yes, you are very special. Very special." And she lifted her hand like a priest giving a benediction and said, "God bless you, my darling. And merry Christmas." I wished her a merry Christmas in return and I left then, feeling pleased and slightly bemused, like I had just had an encounter with someone not entirely of this world. I thought for just a moment that if I turned around I might be able to peer behind the counter and see if she had shoes with pointy elfin toes or perhaps she might have disappeared in a poof of fairy dust. But I didn't look back, and because of that, it was a perfect moment.
The rest of this post is from a blog entry posted on the original Blog A Go-Go on December 26, 2007. I am reposting it here because it is one of the loveliest travel memories I have, and because I like to think that at this wonderful holiday time of year, angels or fairies or elves might really walk among us.
In which I am blessed...
Not figuratively, although I am aware of the fact that I lead a charmed life. No, I was ACTUALLY blessed on my way home from Houston on Saturday. I had a layover in the Charlotte airport--an airport I actually love. It's small enough to traverse in less than fifteen minutes, even in heels, and they have Cinnabon. I don't eat them, but I could LIVE off of the smell.
Anyway, I went to make a purchase at an airport shop and the clerk who helped me was like something out of a fairy tale. She was tiny--I am less than five foot five and I could see the top of her head. She had white hair neatly spun into a tiny bun, like candy floss, and her eyes were the most beautiful, startling shade of blue. She looked up at me and smiled, her entire face crinkling into laugh lines. "Yes, my darling, can I help you?" Her accent was thick and completely unplaceable, although I think Eastern European would not have been too far afield. Altogether she looked like Mrs. Claus.
I gave her the merchandise and she paused, looking at my face intently. "You are special," she said suddenly. I blinked at her in surprise, but I smiled back. "Thank you." She shook her head. "No, my dear. You are special. I know. Tell me, what do you do?" "I am a writer," I told her. "And what have you written?" (This next part is one of the coolest things I have ever been able to do, seriously.) I pointed to the books stacked on a display to the side. "That book there, Silent in the Grave. I wrote that." She nodded. "And have you written anything else?" "Yes, I have written two more books in the series."
She stared at me a long moment, then rang up my purchase and took my money, counting back my change. When she handed it to me, she stared at me again, looking right through me. "Yes, you are very special. Very special." And she lifted her hand like a priest giving a benediction and said, "God bless you, my darling. And merry Christmas." I wished her a merry Christmas in return and I left then, feeling pleased and slightly bemused, like I had just had an encounter with someone not entirely of this world. I thought for just a moment that if I turned around I might be able to peer behind the counter and see if she had shoes with pointy elfin toes or perhaps she might have disappeared in a poof of fairy dust. But I didn't look back, and because of that, it was a perfect moment.
Comments
I saw her as a cross between
I saw her as a cross between Maria Ouspendkaya, Helen Hayes in her later years, and maybe a touch of an Annalee Mrs. Claus doll, from somewhere Munchkin land perhaps all sprinkled with fairy dust awaiting Rudolf.
I remember this post, and she
I remember this post, and she is correct. You are indeed special.
What a wonderful story!
What a wonderful story!
This made me smile. I didn't
This made me smile. I didn't read this when you originally posted it, but it's utterly beautiful to read. That is a magic moment. (Side note: I have a Yankee candle that smells like Cinnabon. SO GOOD.)