Old Man Roofus was always Rosemary’s first customer of the day. He always bought a cup of coffee to go and was consistently very pleasant. She looked forward to their daily morning exchanges. He was a big mystery to her, though, as he never spoke of family, friends, or children of his own. Rosemary didn’t even know where he lived, although she was quite sure he was not homeless, due to the fact that he was always very well dressed and smelled of Old Spice cologne, just like her Grandfather used to wear.
Having finished the cookie baking, Rosemary jumped into the task of unwrapping ornaments, memories from Christmases past. Going through the ornaments, she thought, is always a trip down a snowy memory lane, where footprints in the snow can lead straight toward one’s heart. A faded red and white candy cane made from play-dough, with hardened fingerprints, provided fond thoughts of home. There was the paper cut-out green tree that her sister had made when she was in the second grade, her baby booties that Mom sewed ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ on. These are the wonderful things that make the season glow with magic, she thought. Thanking Manny for her family, she stood back and objectively critiqued her tree, deciding that, yet again, this one was the most beautiful. As she packed the boxes away, she came across a nearly forgotten wooden trunk. She vaguely remembered seeing it before, but over the years people had given her various items. Inside the trunk was a beautiful angel. Her dress was made of silk and felt as delicate as cotton candy. She had a serene look of peace and joy, and Rosemary knew instantly where the angel would go.