The drugstore didn’t actually have Bloody Mary mix — I found that later at a gas station, where I was also able to purchase some festive vodka — but it did have the cheese to sprinkle on spaghetti, another Christmas staple straight from Bethlehem.
Anyway, as I was walking out, a 40-ish woman in a high-collared coat was walking in. She had a pretty, roundish and somehow comforting face. Trite as it may sound, you could even say it glowed. And she smiled at a stranger and said, simply, “Merry Christmas.”
It has been exactly that, and I haven’t even made dinner yet. I hope it’s been splendid for the angelic shopper, too.