A Christmas Tale: Part I

The following is the first installment in a four-part serial story written by Skaneateles resident Bob Comenole. He is the author of six books, novels, short stories, essays and children's fables. For 20 years, he taught rhetoric and literature at several universities.

I walked against a biting wind from the Embarcadero up Market Street. All around me the lights of San Francisco began to poke into the falling night, red and yellow, shimmering off into the Bay. I raised my collar, more against memory than cold. Behind me was an 11-month, 11-day tour of duty. I didn't know if it would ever feel like home again. After a year overseas I avoided catching my reflection in the storefront windows.

A small brass ensemble played "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" as children hurtled down the streets, filled with the helium of joy. Their trailing scarves left long brushes of color suspended in the air, red, green, yellow, and each hung there, like a colorful ledge upon which anyone might rest a dream or a want. At 19, I thought how much closer in age I was to them than to their parents who were madly dashing behind. I overheard a man say that there'd been only 10 instances of measurable snow in San Francisco in the past century. Apparently, this was going to be another one of them.