The sixty something woman who must have had her stack of Christmas cards at the wrong place in her car when she opened the door, and a 30-m.p.h. gust of wind took all her cards and tossed them out on the main street of our little town.

They immediately scattered, and in that devilish way that lost pieces of paper do when in the wind’s clutch, danced their naughty way out from under her hand just as she bent to catch one of them.

Being the age she was, all she could manage was a steady walk to each one, trying to step on it before it skittered away just like the 21 others had.  (She had four in her hand that she had successfully retrieved.)

The case looked hopeless, as I pulled up to main street from a side street, and for a brief second, I figured it didn’t pay. 

But then, why not?

I jumped out and ran to help, my extra speed making it possible to trounce each of those jaunty looking pieces of paper.

The lady said we could stop, but by then I was having too much fun. 

In spite of the impossibility of it all, we captured every one of them.

Even though they were all still blank . . . she hadn’t filled any of them out yet . . .

I’ll never know how it happened.  It shouldn’t have been possible at all.

It was only as I turned around to go back to my truck and trailer, that I realized in my haste to help, I had jumped out, having left it parked halfway in and halfway out of the intersection at a very awkward angle, which, instead of embarrassing me like it probably would have in previous years, only lent to the gaiety of it all.