My throat is raw and scratchy. I lie in bed, my eyelids heavy, and turn to look at the clock. 3AM. I cannot sleep.
I get up and wander into the dining room. The room shines with the glow of the Christmas tree lights — inappropriately festive in the middle of the night.
I turn on the kitchen light and with a pop it goes out. Second time in two months. I flip the switch on the electronic tea kettle and wait for the water to boil.
Almost Christmas.
The ice maker rumbles and outside a car door slams. The tea kettle clicks at me — my water is ready — and I pour it over a tea bag and wander into the living room.
Bella is sprawled on the couch, all four legs sticking upwards. She snorts and I sit down beside her.
The tea is hot — it feels good on my throat. I sip and lay my head back, close my eyes for a few seconds. The porcelain cup is uncomfortably warm against my leg. I stand up and walk to the window.
The air outside is filled with giant snowflakes, floating down as if they have all the time in world. The moon lights the snow-covered ground — bright as blue.
Even inside I can feel the cold and the quiet. I shiver and take another sip of tea.
From above I hear something faint and rhythmic. It grows steadily louder. Bells.
I hold the back of my hand to my forehead. Am I feverish?
The ringing from above me is louder still. Then I hear a crash. My heart leaps into my throat and I stand silent, frozen.
I could swear I hear footsteps. I set my tea on the floor and tip-toe to the side window, peering out, up. All I can see are quietly falling snowflakes, swirling down in a pretty dance.
A bump and… then CRSHHWWWWOOOSH CRASH BANG. Something has slid down my chimney.
Bella sits up and woofs — more like a sneeze than a bark. Her fur is smashed in on the side where her face pressed against the couch, making her look lopsided. She eyes the bundle that has appeared on my hearth. Red and white fur and black boots and a hat… she turns around and around and lays back down to go to sleep.
I watch as he unwinds and straightens, standing on tip-toe to stretch his arms over his head. He yawns loudly, grunts, then winks at me and I stumble back, my hand over my mouth, holding in the scream that sits on the tip of my tongue.
My 6 year old self recognizes him, but my 33 year old self sees only a stranger — an intruder in my house, in the middle of the night.
He drags a giant bag out of the chimney, leans over and fishes around inside. “Uh HUH!” he mutters and pulls out a small gold-wrapped package with a giant silver bow. He sets it beneath the tree, straightens up and heaves the bag over his shoulder, then walks to the front door. He opens the door, turns to look at me, then waves and lets himself out.
I stand still for a moment. Then I walk slowly to the door and turn the lock. I pick up my cup of tea from where I’d set it on the floor and take a sip. The liquid has cooled.
I set the cup on the coffee table and walk to my bedroom. I shake Jay — he’s warm with sleep. “Wake up,” I whisper. “I think I just saw Santa Clause.” He grunts and turns over. I lie down beside him. From far away I hear a faint jingling and… laughter?
I pull the blankets over my head and drift off to sleep.
***
Merry Christmas from our house to yours!
~Jen, Jay, CJ & Bella
December 23, 2011 at 8:51 am
Lovely. Happy to see you writing again. Merry Christmas!
December 23, 2011 at 2:51 pm
Thanks, Shannon! Happy Christmas to you too!!