Christmas Presence

ANGEL. "Hail thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. For thou hast found favor with God. And behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus. And he shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest; and he shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever: and of his kingdom there shall be no end." MARY. What? ANGEL. "Thou hast found favour with God. And behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great--" MARY. What? ANGEL. Mary, I can't go on repeating this time after--  MARY. Who are you? ANGEL. I am the angel of the Lord.‘ MARY. (pause) You? ANGEL. Yes. MARY. You're just a -- ANGEL. No. MARY. You said conceive, what? ANGEL. "Conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and-- "  MARY. Have a baby? ANGEL. Yes. MARY. I can't, I haven't got a husband. I haven't even got a boy frien...

Imagine a morning in late November. A coming of winter morning more than twenty years ago. "Oh my," she exclaims, her breath smoking the windowpane, "it's fruitcake weather!" The person to whom she is speaking is myself. I am seven; she is sixty-something, We are cousins, very distant ones, and we have lived together—well, as long as I can remember. Other people inhabit the house, relatives; and though they have power over us, and frequently make us cry, we are not, on the whole, too much aware of them. We are each other's best friend. She calls me Buddy, in memory of a boy who was formerly her best friend. The other Buddy died in the 1880's, when she was still a child. She is still a child. "I knew it before I got out of bed," she says, turning away from the window with a purposeful excitement in her eyes. " Help me find my hat. We've thirty cakes to bake." My friend has never been to a picture show, nor does she intend to: ...