The solitary occupant of the place is seen sitting out on the bench, at times, and then walking back again with stooped shoulders and a forlorn expression, It appears that there is a search, a wait, a hope which remains unfulfilled.
I wish he had decorated the place with lights and streamers. The red and white paint, and the face sketched on the wall seems inadequate for this time of the year. Christmas has taken on larger dimensions over the years, but the spirit residing here belongs to a bygone era.
I pull out an old-fashioned notepad and pen, and make a Christmas wish.
I ask nothing for myself, but pray that you visit the forgotten places in true Christmas spirit, with gifts of love. You are needed here the most. The urban dwellers have invented so many replicas. I’m sure you feel lost in the crowd of red caps and white cottony beards. Come where you are recognized and appreciated.