2020 ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas in the hardest of years where the world was distanced and had shed many tears. 

Everyone who could be home was already there, where cinnamon and peppermint scents filled the air. 

While most people dreamed in the dead of the night, others were working to keep spirits bright. 

An older woman stood alone on wobbly feet. It seemed she was tired and needed something to eat. 

I could barely see her face behind the mask and goggles she wore. They were so tightly on, her face must have been sore. 

But she kept on working despite any pain she was in. She had to help fight for those who needed to win. 

Her white shoes squeaked softly as she did her rounds. An angel of sorts in a PPE gown. 

She walked room to room in the quiet of night, caring for patients in dimmed hospital light. 

She took care of each person and did all

that she could, hoping her help would do them some good. 

Some patients were improving. Others were getting worse. This was the reality of the COVID curse. 

After a long night of work, when the sun started to rise, she said “goodbye” and “merry Christmas”, as the new staff walked by. 

She removed all of her gear and scrubbed as tears filled her eyes. When she finished scrubbing she gave in and started to cry. 

As she walked to her car with red eyes and another mask on her face, I wondered if she knew what a difference she made. 

She drove past some houses of holiday joy where children were playing with fancy new toys. 

Stopped at a stop sign she spotted a girl riding by, on a shiny new bike. A man rode behind her smiling with delight. 

She watched for a moment and felt a smile on her face and noticed the man looking her way. 

He caught her eye and waved at her. “Merry Christmas,” he said. She recognized him from a hospital bed. 

She’d held his hand when he needed it and prayed by his bedside. A few months ago he was the reason she’d cried.

She had thought he was done for but here he was, still alive, not even knowing she had helped him survive. 

She wished them Merry Christmas and drove slowly away. She was thankful for the miracle God had shown her that day. 

When she arrived home to her house, she showered, ate, and turned off the light. “Merry Christmas” she whispered,” and to all a good night. 

Perfect

I once knew a woman who edited every photo of herself she posted online. No one was allowed to see an “imperfect” photo of her online. Now that she has passed away, I wonder how much time was spent touching and retouching photos and if her family wouldn’t have appreciated having a photo online that wasn’t retouched to remember her by. I wonder if they even know they were retouched and I think that it's sad that she felt the need to do that. She was naturally gorgeous without any makeup or filters.

Perfect
I've got the perfect outfit, and fantastic lighting too. I look simply stunning from my head down to my shoes.

I've filtered, and cropped, re-colored, and chopped all the parts that don't look as appealing. I've angled my head and whitened my teeth, so my smile shows just how I'm feeling.

My brown eyes were just a little too brown, so I made them the color of copper. And my best friend looked awkward enough that it simply was kinder to crop her.

I've made the sky a bit bluer and the sunshine less bright. It took dozens of shots till I found one that I liked.

I made a few changes to make myself appear thinner. Now, finally, I actually feel like a winner.

This photo is simply a better version of me. Someone I actually want you to see.

No one needs to know that I'm not quite that toned or that this is how I spend my time when I'm alone.

I take a deep breath and think of something witty to say and hope that people will think of me this way.

I watch as the likes and comments come through. I refresh and refresh for an hour or two.

The comments really validate all the work that I’ve put in. But part of me wonders if they know I’m not that thin.

Then my best friend sends me a text out of the blue. Initially all it says is: “We’re Through.”

When I ask her what she’s talking about, she sends me the photo where I cropped her out.

“Why did you take me out of your photo endeavor when I smiled beside you for what felt like forever?

My cheeks grew stiff as you tried shot after shot, giving the camera all that you’ve got.

And now that I’ve been removed from your photo, I see how you feel. I was wrong to think our friendship could ever be real.”

Her words hit me hard as I read and re-read. I don’t know why she is being so mean to me.

I watch the comments and likes go by and I tell myself she’s wrong. At least here in this virtual world, I belong.

I tell myself: “So what if she is offended?” When people are mean to me, I just un-friend them.

After my post becomes yesterday’s news, I check my friends list remember she’s been removed.

I scroll through my friend’s list and to my surprise, there are no more familiar names catching my eyes.

All the people that I actually know, I’ve either unfriended or they’ve just let me go.

The realization hits me that I no longer have friends. Don’t they realize I was doing all this for them?