Santa and Me
Every year I watch you go off to do what you love, off to listen to children tell you what they want for Christmas and every year you astound me with the honor and gentility with which you perform this beloved annual task. You volunteer each Christmas, without hesitation and with a heart full of love for the spirit that is Santa.
You are a bright light in a holiday scene, a smile for a scared little one, too in awe to gather the courage to talk to you. You are a fable, a myth, a story of old, resonating through the ages. You are a spark from that long ago energy where the tales all began.
Each year you say the suit gets more uncomfortable and still you fill those hours lending a lap and a ho-ho-ho, while the children pass their hopes and dreams to you, confident you’ll come through for them. They entrust you with their memories, their holiday and their most secret wishes. You listen, you smile and then you give them back to their parents, with a full heart, a candy cane and a photo with Santa.
You tell me about the new babies…about mothers handing their precious newborns to you, knowing you’ll be a part of their history.
Each year you tell me, with a tear in your eye, how very honored you feel to be a First Santa for them. I see you feeling so blessed to be a part of their childhood, to be that Santa, in that Baby’s First Christmas photo that will live in the family album for generations to come. You remain in awe of the enormity of what you do each year when you become that spirit of all that is loving. I see you these few days each year, your beard a little more white, your eye with a sweeter twinkle and your smile just that much brighter.
You are my Santa…all the year long. At this time of year you are their Santa, too.
parent teacher wife
artist poet coo
humorist woman volunteer student
Some of My Work
Life as Fodder
Life and Sanity
A Humor Column
Martin & Harriet
He's dead, she's not.