Santa by Eurdine Ringwelski
The dearest of Clauses leaned back into his chair and sighed as he gazed into the open hearth and listened to the fire snap and sputter. His heart was heavy as he thought of the hundreds of poor souls who no longer believed in his magic or the greatness of his whiskers. How easy it had been once so long ago when life was simple and the spirit of Christmas was celebrated with open hearts. What would the future hold for an old man who traveled but on one night of the year and sprinkled delights down chimney tops for those who believed.
The elves had smiled and hummed and told witty limericks but Nick’s spirits could not be lifted. The lingering smells of gingerbread in the oven didn’t whet his whim for sweets and the Mrs. considered inviting the great Northern Wind to gust and wale and fill the Pole with crisp air to cure her Claus. In her wisdom, though, she knew that the the dear man’s heart strings would be mended by the wishes and dreams of a true believer.
The days of November brought chilled wisps of winter and a few letters to be answered. Lashes were painted on china dolls, pink twirls were swirled on canes, and rubber wheels were pinned on trucks; but the elves handled the jobs so competently, Claus had more time on his hands to mourn the loss of Christmas innocence. In the afternoons to occupy his idle hands, the White Whiskers took to the forests with axe to fill the shed with wood to heat the Pole house and to keep the the reindeer warm in their Northern shanty. On those solitary ventures the old man in red didn’t notice the slight movement in the trees or feel eyes upon his every move. As the hours of November melted into December the watcher from afar became more bold in spying until one bright afternoon.
“I know who you are.”
The sad fellow below the trees jumped a few steps in surprise.
“I say there, my dearest of Clauses, I know who you are and I believe that you are the spirit of Christmas himself.”
Perched on a leafless limb was the tiniest of creatures with twinkling eyes that glowed with love and wishes unfilled as they enveloped the white bearded man. He wanted to put his hand out to touch the glistening flutter of the vision but he was afraid to frighten her off.
“All my life I have spent watching you from afar and now my dreams are true because, sweetest Claus, you are talking with me. I lived with the birds because they are the dearest of friends who always have taken care of me and there was no other place for me in the world. I am the smallest of pixies and there was no work for me in your home among the toys. I can pack and paint and bake and make tiny bonnets for dolls. Let me work for you, dearest Santa.”
Santa was grieved to hear that such a delightful helper was turned away from his door. He was shocked that he was so thoughtless in ignoring this tiny pixie from Christmas’s pleasures. Had this been the problem all along that he was so involved in the Christmas Eve sleigh trip that all the joy and love and the sharing the preparation was lost?
“Come down, tiny elf, and please join my staff as we tie the bows and frost the cookies for tomorrow’s ride. There is nothing but sorrow in my heart that your joy and abilities have not been used in my house for years. The world hasn’t meant to overlook you, tiny one.”
The Mrs. looked out of her window quickly as she heard the throaty song of old man nearing the house carrying the tiny pixie on his shoulder. His eyes glistened and his nose was indeed the cherry in his white whiskers. The good woman smiled as she greeted them at the open door. Santa had once again found the spirit of Christmas.
“I shall fasten bells to your slippers, to twinkle as you flutter about, tiny elf, so no one will step on your toes as you run with messages about the house and curl ribbons on packages.” The Mrs. straightened herself from her task and blessed the great mysteries beyond the clouds who sent this tiny bird child to brighten the house. Such love had not been felt within Claus’s walls in decades. The anticipation of the holiday excursion brought squeals to the lips of the elves as the tiny pixie danced in the stacks of toys and helped pack the enormous sleigh. The twinkles on her toes played sweet melodies as the great man’s red velvet suit was brushed and placed upon his laughing shoulders. His whiskers were untangled by the pixie’s tender fingers and he caught her up in the air and suggested that she fly about the world with him on this evening.
The reindeer snickered and pulled at their reins as they waited for the final surprise to be put in the sleigh. They had not taken to the sky for 365 days and their hooves tingled with the excitement of flight. The twinkled-toe pixie was tucked beside her beloved Claus and the deer quickly took to the air and spun through the clouds as all left at the Pole waved successes in the evening ride.
The children in darkest Africa and the new America were gifted with treasures, the great Claus raced the upcoming dawn. The tiniest of elves in St. Nick’s bag checked the list at every stop and helped ease the old jolly fellow back into the sleigh as his tummy grew with each new plate of cookies. Such a considerate helper never before was known and the red-suited man smiled as he guided the deer over smoking stacks of chimneys.
“I want to show you something very special which I think will delight you, little elf. That is why I have saved England for the very last.”
The Christmas brigade sparked over Windsor Castle and descended ever so slowly over Queen Victoria’s domain. “Come with me, little one, and you shall have your Christmas present.”
The elf followed Santa down passageways and halls and past armored men and paintings of battles until Claus threw open the door of a huge glassed room. Sweetly singing inside were hundreds of birds in every color of the rainbow. Purples, pinks, bright yellows, greens, and delicate blues decorated the feathers of the creatures who twittered about the glass walls.
“Merry Christmas,” they chirped and whistled and cooed from all about. Their tiny voices grew so large that the music they sang echoed throughout the Castle Windsor and touched the dreams of the queen herself. The tiny elf sang with her beloved friends, the birds, and suddenly began to fly among the twittering and flapping wings.
The bells on the slippers of her tiny feet twinkled as she flew about the room and out an open window towards the stars blazing in the night.
“Merry Christmas, dearest of Clauses, and may the precious secret of Christmas always be yours. I need to fly and explore and have adventures. You have given me the world, which is the grandest of all gifts.”
The whiskered man nodded and smiled and let the pixie fly away with the blessing of his open arms. The secret of Christmas was his.
* * *
The snow fell on the Pole as the preparations for Christmas began in another year. The great man’s heart was no longer heavy as soldiers were carved and checkers dipped in black and red paints. The tree was trimmed and plum pudding sweetened with brandy as the day neared. He thought he heard a twinkle once but it was only the passing wind. He watched that year and for tens of years following and it is rumored that the great Claus still searched the skies for his tiniest of pixies who gave him the secret of Christmas.
© Copyright Eurdine Ringwelski All Rights Reserved
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