Shorts

                Dr. Santa Claus,

                I don’t think it’s fair that you should only visit the boys and girls that celebrate Christmas. My family and I celebrate Hanukah and I only get one present a day, but so many of my friends get so many gifts on Christmas, I don’t think it’s fair.

                Sincerely,

                Susan Hein

                The letter sat quietly on the table, a plate of milk and cookies keeping it company. On the far side of the room, a large golden Menorah sat with two candles burning. Around it was a small collection of presents, each with a single, different name resting on the wrapping.

                And then, a rustle came from the fireplace. A cold wind swept through the living room and into the house. With it, a few spare snowflakes came whisking down into the warm room.

                A footstep echoed from the hallway. A little girl dressed in a set of pajamas stepped down, rubbing her eyes in the late morning light. She blinked a few times, looking at chimney.

                Then, with a whisk of snow and a whirl of wind, the chimney seemed to expand. From out of the tumult, a man in a red suit with a white fluffy beard appeared. He blinked a few times, and then looked down at the kitchen table. The plate of cookies and the glass of milk caught his eyes.

                He started towards the cookies, and then paused. He looked back through the room and saw in the distance the tiny girl hiding behind the banister of the staircase. As soon as he looked her way, she panicked and bolted back up the stairs.

                “Oh, Susie,” He called.

                She froze. She glanced back down the stairs and saw him, walking stomach first, over towards the foot of the stairs. He bent over a bit and looked up at her. “Hello, there,” He said with a jolly smile. She turned around slowly, her eyes filled with childish apprehension.

                He looked back at the plate of cookies, then over at the Menorah. He turned back to Susan and smiled. “I think you and I should have a little talk,” He grinned. He headed back into the kitchen, pulling out one of the chairs. “Here you go,” He said, sitting down across from her. She carefully approached the table, then crawled up into the chair.

                He reached out to the plate of cookies and pulled one off the top. He bit into it, and then his eyes went wide. “Chocolate chip,” He said with delight. “Oh, I never get tired of these.” He looked across the table at the little girl sitting near him. “You know, this is how I know which houses to visit.”

                “The milk and cookies?” She asked.

                He nodded.

                “Why do you only visit boys and girls on Christmas?” She asked.

                He looked at her and smiled, his cheeks turning even rosier. “I don’t,” He said with a smile.

                She looked confused. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He said.

                She looked around him. “I, I don’t see any presents,” She said. “You always bring presents to boys and girls who celebrate Christmas, but not to others.”

                He sat back, laughing raucously, his belly shaking with the effort. When he was done laughing, he sat forward again, his face broad with a warm smile. “My dear, I bring presents to the boys and girls who are good for goodness’ sake.”

                “You’ve never brought me any presents,” She asked, her eyes still wide as she stared up at the man.

                He smiled again. “This is the first time you set out the cookies.”

                He stood up from the table, taking one last cookie. He winked at her and started for the chimney. She stood up as well, watching him go. He reached the edge of the brick fireplace, and then stopped. He turned back to her. “This time of year, it’s about caring for your fellow man and about good cheer. No matter who you are or what you believe, this is the time when the world remembers to be good.” He smiled at her with a wink. “And that’s what I’m all about. Rewarding good.”

                He stepped back, putting his foot in the chimney. “And if I were you, I’d put out milk and cookies every year so I can find your house. And come the final day of Hanukah, I’d check under the Menorah and just see what you find.”

                With a wink, he wiggled his nose. And with a whisk of motion, he was gone.

                Susan was left staring at the chimney place, an awed smile on her face.