Member-only story
It was laying there in the grocery store parking lot, and I started imagining the story of its existence. But then, I realized the crumpled beer can wasn’t the important part of the story. So I started imagining the story of the person who threw down the can…
That Christmas Eve on my way home from work I stopped at a grocery store to pick up a few last minute essentials: napkins, batteries, hummus. Stuff like that. (And I’m not kidding about the hummus. It’s one of life’s essential pleasures.)
Anyway, when I got out of the car, there was this Coors Light can parked in the space next to me. Then, this full-blown Christmas Analogy appeared in my head and heart. You see, I know people who are pretty well described by this crumpled beer can: bright and shiny on the outside. Decorated with the most attractive designs marketing can create. Once full, now empty. Teasing with pleasure to come, but now crushed. Once worth buying. Now used. Now thrown away. Now forgotten.
At Christmas, we have this hyped-up expectation of peace, joy, love, and happiness. Sometimes, the contrast between our Christmas ideal and our Christmas reality is just too much to bear. We feel like that crushed can. At least, we do if we suspend disbelief for a moment and assume that the can has feelings. Which it probably doesn’t. But, work with me here. Just go…