It happened again. Another grocery store encounter - the fourth one I’ve had.

This time, I was headed to check out with last-minute goodies for Christmas noshing. Instead of turning right to stand in line, I turned left for a box of Cheez-Its. Extra toasty. My son’s favorite. Mine, too, as evidenced by the orange crumbs on my mouth as I write this.

Next to the array of cheesy flavors was a big rolling cart stacked with boxes. A man unpacked them, putting bags of potato chips on the shelves. Strong looking guy. Bright eyes. A vendor. I had never seen him before.

We were both trapped next to his chip stash to make room for shoppers who hurriedly maneuvered around us.

“Happy holidays,” I said with a shrug as we waited. “What do you celebrate?” I almost always ask this because I really, really dislike impersonal greetings.

“Christmas.” He smiled.

“Well then, merry Christmas.” I smiled back.

“For me, it’s Christmas every day,” More people jostled to get past as he continued. “People have made Christmas too commercial. It’s all about presents and stuff. We don’t even know that Christ was actually born on December 25. So, for me, Christmas is every day because Christ is every day.”

I nodded and let that sink in. “Christmas is every day. I like that. And I hope you and your family have a very merry Christmas on Monday.”

“I don’t think I’ll be with them. I just moved here from DC. They haven’t come down yet.”

“Oh, that’s hard. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be alright.” He smiled again.

“Can you go to them?”

He explained his transmission is going bad. He only uses his car for work. No five-hour drive north for him.

“How about taking the train? It’s an easy ride.”

“I’m kinda short on money. I’ll probably just stay here,” he said.

“I really hope you can get there.” I reached for my purse. “Merry Christmas today.”

“Merry Christmas every day,” he replied.

Amen. And may it be so for all of us.

Merry Christmas, y’all.  Every day.