Joyeux Noël, Everyone

Written December 25th, 2007...

Somewhere a cook is hurriedly wrapping up dishes and bowls, washing down counters, and putting away knives. Somewhere a cook is dropping his dirty apron and jacket in the dirty-linen bin and grabbing a fresh set. Somewhere he is stuffing his work clothes into his bag and running for the train.
Somewhere in Brittany his family is waiting for him around an old table- maybe there is a fireplace, maybe there is a goose. Somewhere their hearts are full with anticipation of the arrival of their son, brother, cousin, boyfriend.
Somewhere the cook is tapping his foot and rapping his fingers on the window of the train car, willing it to start chugging westward from Paris.
Somewhere a happy family, wrapped in heavy coats and scarves and hats and gloves are wrapping their arms around him as he steps down off of the train, and Christmas has come.

Somewhere a weary student is stepping off of a plane onto the hot and dry tarmac. He has been gone from home for over a year, and he has not seen his family or his friends in what seems like even longer.
Somewhere he is picking up his luggage and lugging it outside to wait for a cab. He probably rests under a palm tree for some shade, as it is so hot this time of year.
Somewhere his mother and father are anxiously preparing his favorite foods and organizing their son's room, excited for the return of their only child.
Somewhere in Agadir, a cab pulls up to a waiting house, and though the Moroccan dessert is full of Muslims, Christmas comes when the student steps out of the cab and into the waiting arms of his mom.

Somewhere a beautiful young woman is warming herself in her new apartment. She is in a new job and in a new life. Somewhere, she is revelling in the New England cold and enjoying her first Boston snow. It will be her first white Christmas in years, since it doesn't snow it Atlanta.
Somewhere this Christmas's best gifts will be the ones she gives herself; they are the best deserved.

Somewhere in Oak Park a young couple is spending their first Christmas with their new baby girl.
Maybe they are with his family today; maybe they are with her family. Either way, they are together, and now that little Reilly is with them, it doesn't really matter where they are, so long as they are together. It is Christmas for them, where ever they choose to be.

Somewhere in California a happy man is waiting to come home to his family and friends. It has been almost four months since he has seen any of them, and it will be seven more months once he is deployed to Iraq.
Somewhere "Doc" is taking care of his guys. Somewhere he is standing for what he believes.
He might be frightened of the future; he might not be. He might question himself, and he might not.
But when he comes home, everything that is going on in the world will stop, and his mother and father, his sisters and brother, his cousins and his girl will all put their arms around him. It will be Christmas then.

Somewhere there is no tree this year. Somewhere there are no gifts.
Somewhere her father's chair is empty for Christmas, and the Siberian winter will be somehow colder for it.
Somewhere a mother and her daughters will quietly pass the day, sipping his vodka, stroking his picture in its frame; sitting in his absence.
Somewhere a mother's only light of Christmas will be that her daugthers are there, and she is with them. And he is there too, and he is not.
And Christmas will not be the same.

Somewhere a daughter sits with her mother, grateful to have her home from the hospital and in recovery. A hospital can be a terrible place to spend a Christmas, so however worried she still is, she will be happy to be home with her healing mother and with her beloved dogs.
Somewhere Trixie and Norton's yelps and barks are the bells of Christmas, and it is Christmas, since mother and daughter are together.

Somewhere a daughter is making a decision: Chicago or San Fransisco? Somewhere she might be finding it hard to be pulled away from the family she is so recently home to.
Somewhere that daughter's laugh and smile will warm her family's heart.
And maybe she misses Brazil, and maybe she does not. It is with her, where ever she goes, though, just as she is with them where ever she is.
But it is Christmas for real now that she is home, and she can count on being hugged and held a little longer than usual this year. She was so dearly missed.

Somewhere spicy noodles in a beef broth are being served. It is his favorite.
Somewhere a mother is happy to take the time to prepare a dish that she might not care for, but that she knows her son loves.
It is a long time until the Spring Festival, and it is cold in China now, but somewhere a son is happy to be home: to speak Chinese, to eat Chinese, to be Chinese again.
Somewhere, he is happy to tell his stories from France, and somewhere, Christmas comes to a family happy to hear them and happy to have him home.

Somewhere a family is going through their rituals. They will get up, go to church, open gifts, go to dinner with their cousins, grandmother, brother and sister in law, mother, and nephews. Somewhere in Chicago wine is served, jokes are made, hands are held, and minds are elsewhere. Somewhere Christmas isnt the same this year.
Somewhere in Chicago, Christmas will come on the 28th of December, for the whole family.

Somewhere a sister is with her sister, just home from Brazil. Somewhere a daughter is with her mother and father. Somewhere a cousin is with her cousins, and somewhere in Crystal Lake, a wife is without her husband.
She calls him and thinks or speaks of him often, but their Christmas will have to wait a few more days. And when she and her husband and their dog and Lake Michigan are all back together again, it will be Christmas for days and days.

Somewhere in Paris, it is Christmas, and it is not. Somewhere the bells of Notre Dame are ringing, and the lights that light the Champs Elysees are blazing, and the choirs are ringing out their carols en Francais.
Somewhere in a hotel room, a son or brother or husband or friend is sitting, and counting the days and toasting them all.
Somehow they are all there: China, Chicago, Boston, Russia, California, Morocco, Brazil, and France are all within him.
Somewhere he is thinking of them.
Somewhere he is grateful for them.
Somewhere a plane is getting ready to bring Christmas home.