christmas in mexico

So in this certain part of Mexico, they go around carrying Mary to different houses. outside the door of each house they have a conversation with the prepared inhabitants. they ask the inhabitants to let them in because they need a place for Mary to rest for the delivery. the argument goes on and then finally the wanderers are let in. they have food and drink and they share stories. when done, they step outside on the brick roads and go to the next house to repeat the exercise. folks who dont even know eachother end up sharing this moment. the occasion is festive and full of magic, where girls sit on benches and the boys circle around trying to make contact.

I sat there engulfed in the old mans story. the question had come to my mind and lingered there for a few seconds before i asked him when he was leaving Pakistan for christmas. the dates had immediately spurred the question; how was christmas back home?

this old man i work with and who signs our monthly cheques brightened up and starting telling me about his home. you could tell he felt good going back. His story weaved around many other details. you could tell he could see it as he spoke. miles and years away from home sat this old man; working for the development of a country that was not his. maybe he worked for the money but what really would he do with so much money at this age? i preferred believing the former theory; the latter broke the spell.

later that hour while fumbling through my pockets i found some candy. i went over to his office, distributing the candy to everyone on the way. i walked in, offered him a peace and he took it. he said i should come over more often; he has a good sense of humor. i asked him if he wanted more; he thanked but declined.

i walked out and felt like santa.