I love this city at Christmas. The streets are lit with strings of lights, your strolls are scored by holiday carols, there are Christmas trees on many corners or in the windows of highrise condos, store displays feature extravagent Christmas decor, and people preface or postscript everything with a smile and a "Merry Christmas!" or "Happy Holidays!"
Of course, the city is saturated in the commercialism of Christmas, but you can feel the spirit of the season in ways that you can't feel it anywhere else. It's Christmas as only the Big Apple can do it.
I was buying shampoo and conditioner in a Duane Reade yesterday. As I strolled down one of the aisles there was a song playing. I don't know the name of it nor had I heard it before, but the chorus went something like, I'm coming home for Christmas in New York.
I hummed along silently in my head and then exited onto Broadway. A crisp breeze hit my face, car horns honked, and people raced in opposite, zagging patterns on the sidewalk. From the subway grate, I heard a train roar beneath the street.
I'm home for Christmas in New York.