Things wind down in Provincetown come December, but in New York I was always crazy busy at Christmas because I worked retail. My last Manhattan job was the dreaded End of Summer Barney’s Warehouse Sale where more than a million people shopped over the opening weekend. But the winter before, during my last December in New York, I was at the gift shop in the Plaza Hotel.

Originally, I was hired to sell in the Eloise boutique but they decided I was better suited elsewhere. Mostly I sold bathrobes and slippers, or the brass guestroom key fobs, one of which I own and still use today. I went to work wearing something fabulous and black with either diamonds or pearls, and I was given a free haircut at the salon upstairs to look my best for our mink-draped clients who were mainly European or Saudi Arabian.

My favorite part of the day was lunch when I got to work on the novel I was writing after I had finished eating. I could usually be found on the mezzanine balcony looking out over the marble entrance with its glittering holiday decorations. There were two down-stuffed Louis XIV chairs that were the most comfortable things on which I have ever sat and a splendid little spindly table for my Starbucks and delicious toasted raisin bagel or BLT.

No one ever bothered me, I must have looked like I belonged there in my designer black as I cut and pasted in my notebook with a tiny pair of scissors and little roll of tape.

And when I was done for the day, I walked almost three miles home every night unless it was snowing because the  subways were unbearable at rush hour; at least outside I could breathe. It was always awful between Rockefeller Center and Macy’s, there was no way to avoid the horrible crowds of cranky Christmas shoppers and the gawking tourists; but once I reached 21^st Street, it was smooth sailing until I hit the Village.

A happy memory, walking in the cold with my IPod and the characters from my novel; it was home once, but I live here now. J.M. Barrie said God gave us memories so we could have roses in December. Maybe what I remember about New York is all I really need.