Albert’s Noel
By Tim Mead
La veille de Noel. Christmas Eve as it was called in this country. Well, actually, Christmas morning now.
Albert had left the closing up to his principal sous chef, showered and changed clothes at the restaurant, and gone to midnight mass. He disagreed with many things about the Church. But it was the Church. And this was the birth of the Christ. He knew he had to be there. The liturgy still sounded strange in English, though he had been in Ohio much of his adult life. But it was still the liturgy. And the wafer…and the cup. Even the incense.
It took a while to get out of the church. He could have left by a side door, but he stood in line to shake hands with the priests. There was no reason to rush back to his empty condo.
It was a cold night but clear, stars
