Christmas Eve journey of the heart
Thoreson
Author’s note: This story first appeared in The Press on Dec. 21, 2005, the second Christmas as this “daddy’s girl” was grieving the loss of mine. Each of the 20 Christmases I’ve celebrated since my father’s been gone, there’s always a little Christmas “moment” that makes me know he’s still right here with me. For anyone facing their first Christmas without a parent or loved one, it’s my wish for you and all Main Street readers that the spirit of Christmas surround you with love and light.
The group of first graders were giggly with delight when Santa came into the classroom, bellowing “Ho! Ho! Ho!” They gathered around, chattering and scrambling to sit on his lap, eager to tell him everything on their list. All but one little boy, Michael, who sat off to the side observing. He listened and watched and at one point sidled up next to me. With eyes big he leaned close and quietly asked, “Is that the real Santa Claus?” I looked right at him with equally wide eyes and answered honestly and without hesitation, “He’s the only Santa I’ve known for my whole entire life.”
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