A Santa Wish

By: Felix Perry

I hid a yawn behind my gloved hand and snuck a peek at my watch hoping it would read eight o’clock and quitting time. Don’t get me wrong I loved my seasonal job and loved children and part I played in the joy of the season but after five weeks…an old guy like me grew weary and tired. My knees ached from the constant bouncing of kids most tiny but others not so. My back hurt from the hours sitting in one spot even though I tried to stretch when I got the chance. Since the season started…I’d been kicked, had my beard pulled, cleaned baby throw-up off my suit and had to keep from gagging more than once when parents hadn’t changed their little babies’ diapers. Still, the little girl who spontaneously ran up and hugged me and kissed me, the little boys who looked at me in wonder as they politely asked for a toy truck for Christmas, the look of happiness on parents faces to see the pictures of their kids with Santa…that and so much more made up for it.

          It had been fourteen years since the first Christmas I started at the mall, and in those fourteen years I collected so many wonderful memories but I am getting off the topic. My watch read 7:45 and the line up had gone down to a few last-minute shoppers whose kids convinced them to go see Santa. I called up the next little one a boy of about ten who had a devilish grin on his face and I knew he was one of the doubters and sure enough he began baiting Santa.

“Are you the real Santa?”

“Is that a fake beard”

“What’s my dog’s name?”

He fired off and from experience I had the answers…such as:

“What do you think? Give my beard a little tug? I am not sure what your dogs name is as Santa has so many children with pets. Etc.

I diverted his attention by asking him what he wanted for Christmas and when the list reached about twenty items, I cut him off with a you’d better make a list and send it in a letter. Giving him his candy cane, I eased him off my knee and sent him on his way. The next and what I thought and hoped was my last visitor was a little girl who was four she promptly told me holding up four pudgy little fingers. She carried a ragged looking unicorn stuffy that she called Rainbow and for Christmas she wanted to know if she could have a new baby brother or sister. Looking at her mom who was obviously pregnant and blushing I smiled and said only if you promise to help Mommy all you can with it. The little girl beamed from ear to ear and holding up her hand swore she would leave holding hands with her mom after getting their picture. I started to rise figuring that was it for the day but then noticed someone else in the line.

It was a young lady. She smiled but for some reason I could see a sadness disguised behind the smile. I motioned her forward and she walked hesitantly towards me. She sat on my lap and the photographer snapped the photo. It wasn’t all that unusual as often happens in college towns young students who can’t get home for Christmas get Santa pictures taken to send home to their parents. We chatted for a few moments and she rose to go but stopped and asked the normal question:

“Now young lady, you never told Santa what you would like Santa to give you for Christmas.”

She smiled that wistful smile again and first said there was nothing she really wanted and began to walk away but then paused and came back to my Santa chair.

“You know Santa, my dad took me here to see you every Christmas when I was little and that is why I came to see you today. A part of me wanted to relive those moments we shared coming here. Dad passed away this summer and if I could have any wish in the world my wish would be to have one more hour with him.”

My heart felt like slush, my mind couldn’t find words at first to respond but I held her hand for a moment and pulled her in for a hug. I called out to the photographer to do an extra copy of her picture before I replied.

“Your Dad will always be in your heart and in your memories, but I want you to take this extra photo of his little girl with Santa, buy a nice frame for it and on Christmas day take it out and put it on his resting place. He will know and you will have another memory to hold dear.”

Her tears finally fell and I have to admit my cheeks got a little wetter as well when she wiped them away and this time the smile was genuine as she thanked me and told me that was exactly what she was going to do. She left and I packed up for the night thinking that was the last I would see of her.

          I was wrong. A year later that same young lady showed up at the mall and was standing to the side as the line up was fairly long. I signaled the photographer to pause the line after I finished with the toddler I was holding. I walked over to the young lady who held out the candy and card and gave me a hug.

“I just came to thank you; I did what you said although it didn’t bring him back, I felt his presence and I felt his love. Thank you, you will always be one of my favorite memories of my dad.”

She gave me another hug and kissed my cheek and as she walked away, I felt so grateful that in a small way I had made a difference and walked back to my old familiar chair with a renewed sense of the magic of Christmas.

The End