1:08pm | “Home isn’t where it used to be / Home is anywhere you hang your head”
He remembers sitting on the couch, warm in his pajamas with the Sears Winter catalog covering most of his lap. It’s heavy and he tears through fistfuls of pages to get to the back where the toys are listed. Pen in hand he studiously examines each product before circling, careful not to obscure the order number of the item he wants his mother to buy him for Christmas. This is serious business he is conducting. No less important than the work his mother is busying herself with in the kitchen as she prepares their dinner. Without this tool she might buy him the wrong gift.
He knows not to circle too many toys since a few of the limited number of presents he will receive will already be slotted for clothing. This will ease the disappointment when he spends time unwrapping a box that he thought held an SSP Racer only to discover a shirt or worse, 12 pairs of socks! It will be a momentary setback, but he’ll turn and smile for his mother anyways. There will be more gifts under the tree with his name on them and the odds that most of the rest of these packages contain toys will have skyrocketed!
This is the sweet science of Christmas.
It’s funny how things change.
He can still remember holding that little race car in his hand and whipping that zip cord through the slotted wheels that made that sucker scream down the street like greased lightning!
Man, but that thing could fly!
The rain has started in again and it’s cold.
He takes a drag off his cigarette.
He would appreciate that clothing on a day like today.
But it’s the zippy little car that brings a smile to his face.
