The Gift of People

As soon as I got back to Williamsburgh from the soup kitchen, I knew this was no ordinary night. There was nothing run of the mill about it. It was Christmas Eve, and to me, even more important than Christmas Day. I washed myself in parts as best as I could and went back to my space. I couldn’t help but remember other Christmas Eves, other December 24th of long ago. Through the camera of my mind, I saw people I had known. We were all gathered around a large round table. A festive tablecloth covered the mahogany table and the lights above us were bright and happy. All of us were talking and laughing as we ate the abundant home made food. My mother and Aunt always prepared more than enough food for at least 50 people. Us. Now, many years later, I think that us was the magic word. It opened the door to the feeling of belonging. There is no is us anymore. Tonight I feel like somebody cut me into pieces and I don’t fit anywhere.

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