People Go Home
We were talking, a small circle of us, at a New Year’s Eve brunch. The kind of get-together where you get together wearing lululemon tights and ball caps and the front door with the “Welcome” wreath never closes but instead stands open like a handwritten permission slip. Our conversation turned to loss.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” someone said, “How every Christmas seems to bring a tragedy...”
“I know three people,” I interjected, “who had to say good-bye to loved ones this past week. Two lost parents who had been fighting both Father Time and dogged disease. The other was a shock.”
The mother of five in a BE MERRY sweatshirt added, “It is strange,” as she, the daughter of two lifer teachers, appeared to call roll inside her head.
We began, collectively, recounting sorrows of our past few years’ concentric circles. In our city that feels like a town, our wins and losses overlap.
“It does feel like a lot of people die at Christmas,” the 25-year-old with save-the-world eyes succinctly mused, “Why is that?”
Travel, we all agreed, played a role in the increased risk of accidents. And, of course, the wintry season always elevates the spread and potential severity of airborne illnesses. We even tossed about the idea of a mental finish line that some folks hold in their heads—a make-it-til-the-page-turns mark they want to reach before they relent and let go.
We stood shackled in a small tight ring wearing festive weighted vests.
Then, the woman I can’t remember how I met but feel like I’ve always known said matter-of-factly, “People go home. That’s just what they do.”
People go home.
“They DO!” we thought and said on top of one another as if we’d stumbled upon the correct Jeopardy! Daily Double answer.
“People go home!” we each repeated. “People, go home.”
The sun streaming through the open doorway felt warm on the back of my leg. In the center of the room, the still bulging Christmas tree stood boldly. It, like the group of us gathered, marked the space between what was and what will be.
“It’s always SO good to see you,” I said, side-hugging a happenstance friend.
The crowd began to disperse in clumps,“Happy New Year!” ringing out in a layered chorus.
Until we meet again.