Time to go whizzing through December’s green and white landscape, in roller skates, whirling around to face smiling people everywhere without malice or bah-hum buggers! With deft fingers, you finished wrapping presents in July, perfectly, with bows that stick like magic, with youthful exuberance to spare- (and unlimited funds in your account)! Today window shopping for that perfect gift, looking at your size 10 in the windows at Macys you blow a kiss to that strawberry auburn bottled wonder- with the cute bob your stylist designed just for you; gee but its great to be that healthy, glowing, svelte middle aged gal, who will look just like this in 30 years, blessed with superior genes.

Than you come home to a hot dinner that Betty Crocker herself might have whipped up, with the savory scents of gravy and home cooked rolls warm and inviting with a big dollop of real butter gliding down the crease in the center-it never goes to your hips and by the way, who needs a fortune cookie with this life? You comb through the mail luxuriously, and note that once again you won the Readers Digest sweepstakes two years in a row, and of course half will go to the orphanage and you will be on the cover of Time magazine just in time for your pedicure and a visit with Opra. The lush pine from the Hallmark card Christmas tree is intoxicating, and the silver ware is polished to perfection.

You may reach Cynthia Lamanna at cynthialamanna@yahoo.com.

In the deep apricot glow of candlelight, just as you start to relax in the contours of your velvety couch, the hushed, yet thrilling rush of adorable angels fly down the stairs, leaving their baby bubble scent in the air, avoiding collision as there is never clutter or toys out of place in your home-stealthily hurling themselves in your arms, they thank you profusely for your wisdom, and for gracing them with your mere presence. Well what the heck, you have time on your hands to do a few cartwheels without missing a beat and moments to spare singing Julie Andrews on cue, and other specified favorites-together you recount the adventures of last Christmas with Kodak splendor and snow on the mountain-enveloped in a warm bubble of cuddles and kisses-you read a favorite story just before Nanny whisks them off to the land of dreams, their cherub images lingering- and than its snuggle up time with your honey after he takes your breath away on top of the landing- in his smoking jacket, extending his arm (Cary Grant style); suddenly he is transported to your side, with a hot toddy on a crystal plate, with a decadent cookie; Tonight as every night, he is romancing you, bedazzled- as if he had never looked into your eyes before. In the background, Bing, the Beatles, Alvin and the chip-monks serenade you and bring in Holiday cheer –with a long elegant sigh, and utter serenity you give into this moment and count the days, until Christmas-mentally marking the end of another picture perfect day in paradise with an X in bright red marker- careful not to smudge on the Norman Rockwell calendar. Yes this is my life, a wonderful life at that. Welcome to it. And if you believed that for one moment you’re a gullible sap.

No, none of us know that life-would we really want to? Yes a loaded question here- actually if life were like a favorite fuzzy Christmas film classic, or episode from “Bewitched” it might be just a little too good to want to leave behind and spend an eternity somewhere else outside of your imaginings of a perfect Christmas. After a momentary time warp back to the 40’s or 50’s; it might be all that much harder to schlep back to the present time, with the absence of an innocent age and far too much grey; Brown barren hills, apathy and inhumanity appall and sadden even more than too few rain forests dotting the modern American scene; along with captive mindsets  enslaved to depravity, our children and youth are increasingly falling under the spell of a video game or computer who could never love you back, or have a face to face encounter-yet for all your pining for the good ol days and reminders of the passage of time, thanks to crackling knee joints and blurred vision, there is something to be said for imperfection, limited contracts of time and residence here on earth, with all too familiar human travails. Without such, there would have been no need for a Savoir, and no motivation to journey onto a higher place for deeper revelations and eternal majestic perspectives.