THE LITTLE DRUMMER GIRL

     I was at the store the other day and witnessed something strange. Wait: I take that back. I wouldn't necessarily call it "strange". It's more like ironic. By the way, before I begin, I know the above picture might've not appropriately fit the story. It is, however, a picture I took inside the same store on the same day the following event took place. 
     Last Saturday, the stores were packed. I've already got my Christmas shopping done and naively assumed everyone else had as well. When I arrived on the premises, I was in for a rude awakening.
    A big snow was coming, and I was there to get "the necessities": milk, eggs, bread, etc. The lines were LONG! Everyone was elbow to elbow getting that final thing on their shopping list. Then, out of the blue, came a woman who appeared rather different in a very festive way. She donned a Santa hat and greeted onlookers and passersby with a joyful, "Merry Christmas." She didn't work for the store. She did it at her own free will.
    What's bizarre is everyone looked at her as though she was, if I can be so blunt, "one french fry short of a Happy Meal." (LOL). Most of the Christmas shoppers treated the merry-hearted soul like someone who was more of a pest rather than someone wanting to spread a little Christmas spirit. Despite the snarls and grunts, the woman didn't care. She continued with her boisterous holiday greetings and well wishes for the New Year.
    The grumblers and grunters finally got their last trinkets off the store shelves, paid for their items, and drove off just to complain about the heaviness of holiday traffic. Then again, why should Christmas be any different? These same "humbugs" will continue complaining. They'll complain if they didn't buy the right size clothing and the receipt was accidentally discarded. They'll gripe next month when they open their Visa bill and see a total that'll barely cover their regular bills because they've spent more than they knew they had. 
    It'll never cease. I know. I used to be a humbug myself!
    They'll complain, but deep down, they'll have only one wish; a wish buried deep within some deep, shallow grave they've dug for themselves. Now, you might ask, "What's the wish?" They'll wish they could be just like the woman they shunned who cheered tidings of great joy.
    For one moment her life will seem more important than theirs, and they'll wish they could be just like her: A little drummer girl marching to the ongoing beat of her own drum, showing the world it may change but she never will.