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Somewhere, Someday
(Continued from page 25)
that time or weather couldn't change. Outside of getting my railroad reservations there wasn't much to do. I forgot about the New York trip and plunged into the pre-Christmas inventory.
Nobody has to have the Christmas season explained to them. In these times, Christmas has been more hectic than ever, and it was no wonder that I felt knocked out when the rush was over at the Bon-Ton. It was Christmas eve and I took a taxi home, turned on the water in my tub and relaxed in the thought that it would be another year before I'd be put through such rigorous work again.
I heard the bells of midnight tolling in nearby churches as I climbed into bed, and the folks in the next apartment were raising their voices in some kind of home-made carol as I dropped off to sleep. I could have felt sorry for myself at that moment, for I was pretty lonely; but you get used to those things when it happens to you year after year. The next morning I celebrated Christmas with my canary, Homer. And his cheery chirping gave me confidence.
Somehow, I compared my life to that of the canary; he was caged in like me. Maybe he wouldn't like the freedom 'he dreamed about if I set him free. Maybe it was all an illusion.
I was not completely alone that Christmas Day. My brother called me from Cleveland to wish me a happy holiday, and his two youngsters sang to me on the telephone. In the afternoon my neighbors had me over to their apartment for an egg-nog, and m the evening I went to the City Theater where the local stock company presented a special Christmas play.
It was on returning to the Bon-Ton the day after Christmas that I really felt bluest. The letdown after the hard work, the new responsibilities of my job and the reaching of the Christmas sales peak was nerve-wracking. Everybody seemed bored, and the store was practically empty except for those people who came back to exchange presents that were not suitable. I'd rather not dwell on the memory of the first few days of the year; they were something to forget.
FINALLY I closed up my desk at the Bon-Ton one night knowing I wouldn't be back at it for a full week! The thought was as exhilarating as a spring breeze and when I looked in my bedroom mirror that night I imagined I had grown ten years younger. The next day I was New York bound like a school girl going to her first prom. I was comfortably bedded in an upper berth, the only accommodations avail able, but very grateful for even that.
I never did learn to sleep well on a train. Maybe it was because I never did learn the camaraderie of the railroad. I couldn't strike up a conversation with a fellow-traveler. I didn't feel at home, so to speak, sharing the washroom with a lot of other people. And the rocking motion of the car always played on my imagination, made me think the train was going to bounce off the tracks at the next sharp turn.
And that brought me up to date, brought me back to the realization that the story was ended. No, it wasn't ended. The chapter was ended. I was rushing through the night in the direction of New York. It was hard to think
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