The Courthouse Lawn

The courthouse was lit like a wonderland - lights in the trees and on the lawn, wreaths intertwined with sparklers at every window, lights strung lampost to lampost. They flashed and danced and lit up the square with holiday spirit. It was just past 2am on a Sunday morning and bitterly cold, Christmas was very near and all of downtown was in celebration.

Near a bench off to the side of the brightly shining courthouse, light glinted off a shopping cart piled high with boxes and bottles and assorted possessions. On the bench, I could make out a form huddled under layer upon layer of newspaper and what looked to be ragged blankets and quilts. A striped knitted cap at one end and the heel of a heavy workboot at the other. I heard coughing and saw breath being exhaled on the frozen air before she stirred upright, rearranged her covers and settled back down, pausing only to give me a brief glare in the lamplight.

I packed my camera away and started the car, a nagging need to do something and a loss as to what quarreling in my head. The car slowly warmed up as I dug in my pockets, finally finding a five dollar bill and some change. An old bank envelope was in the glove box and I wrapped the bill and coins in it, and leaving the car running, walked across to the sidewalk and to the bench. She didn't move as I placed it near the rear wheel of the shopping cart and backed away.

Christmas was very near and all of downtown was in celebration except the forgotten ones trying to survive on benches and heating grates, alleys and doorways. It was a very cold night and I hoped they would see morning. When it comes right down to it, maybe all any of us want for Christmas is a little warmth.