Holidays

HOLIDAYS:

20 April, 2014 

Kensington, London

 It's nearly eight o'clock on a chilly spring evening here in London. The grey skies and pouring rain have, at long last given way to a clearing sky and the promise of a beautiful day tomorrow. The sun peeped briefly out of its dark hiding place, as if to reassure us all that it is indeed still there. 

Today is a holiday, or so the calendar says. Someone of great importance long, long ago, chose this particular day from among all others to celebrate some significant event. All the shops and restaurants are shuttered tight, and the few people who venture out onto the city sidewalks walk about quickly and unsmiling. 

For several days up until now I have had the pleasure of being home. But whenever an ordinary day becomes a holiday, and thus, special, as sure as I'm born, I can count on having to work. Instead of celebrating a special day with family and friends, like everyone else, this day becomes special in a different way - somehow requiring services only I can provide - or so it seems. In a few days, after the solemn festivities have come to an end, and an ordinary day dawns, I, once again will be free to be home with my family. 

But today, since it is revered by so many others, I shall spend apart from my loved ones - in the company of strangers - in some far-flung corner of the globe. Like nearly every holiday, it, for me, is but another day of work - made void of the significance assigned to it. 

Lewis Carroll's Mad Hatter got it right: Each of us has but one birthday a year - but we all have 364 UN-birthdays to celebrate. Therefore, since I am nearly always gone for these special celebrations, I can always celebrate UN-holidays - since there will be so many of them!

I do take pleasure, though, in being of service to those who, like me, are traveling on such a day. Far more pleasure still do I get thinking that, God willing, I will soon return to family and friends. Upon my return, they will greet me, and ask me how was England or Japan, or wherever else I've been, and I will simply smile, say it was wonderful .... and give thanks to be home.