He was tall and built, handsome, beanie-capped, cheerful, and bundled up, the Christmas tree lot employee. He stood taller than most of the trees displayed on a corner south of town and could lift a hefty tree as though it were as light as an umbrella. He moved about the lot with ease this crisp December evening, helping wherever he saw a need.I saw him approach several different people before he made his way over to me, where I stood waiting while my husband paid for our tree. As he moved closer, I noticed he was holding something up. It was pink and a little sparkly, rectangular, and he handled it as though it were something important.
"Is this yours?" he asked, his hands cupping what appeared to be my cell phone. Yes, it was, but I intentionally left my phone in the truck, I thought I remembered. How can that be? He pointed me to where he found it, hundreds of feet from where we stood.
He restored to me something I didn't even know was missing.
Gushing thanks and praises to my Christmas tree farm hero, I said, "This is just like a Hallmark Christmas movie! There is always a tree lot and often an angel, and you're my angel who returned this to me!"
His smile shone brighter than the white lights dangling above us. "Thank you, ma'am. That warms my heart," he said, as he rubbed his gloved hand over his chest.
We talked a bit more, and again I referred to him as an angel, while I gave more detail about what happens in Christmas movies. When we said goodbye, he said, "Thank you so much again, ma'am. I can't tell you how much my heart is warmed by what you said."
Did my words restore to him something he didn't even know was missing?
I'd really like to think so.
Diane Mann 2019
