A Christmas Memory

Prior to meeting the Citizen, Big K and I often made the drive from Florida to Pennsylvania for Christmas.

In Pennsylvnia, my mother was working as a receptionist at a facility for developmentally disabled and emotionally challenged individuals. The facility provided outpatient treatment, in-house workshops, transportation, case management, counseling, and residential services. I used to meet her there for lunch. As receptionist, she could not leave her post until the relief girl arrived. As I waited patiently in the lobby one day, I observed people come and go. Employees, clients (as they're called, not patients), employees of affiliated agencies, and others came and went. In between assisting those that needed to be assisted, my mother answered the phone for this facility, which had not yet discovered the joys of voicemail. Meanwhile, an average and unassuming-looking man came into the lobby. He waited patiently until my mother had time to help him.

M: "May I help you, sir?"

Man: "Yes, I just wanted to leave this here." (hands her a check for $100.00).

M: "Oh, can you wait a moment so I can get you a receipt? What is it for?"

Man: "Nothing in particular. You all do such good work here. Merry Christmas."

And he turned around and left without another word.