Story 617: New Year, New… What?

            (In an apartment living room on New Year’s Eve, Sibling 1 and Sibling 2 sit on the couch watching the ball drop in some city broadcast live on TV as they each hold fresh mugs of hot chocolate)

TV: Three!... Two!... One!... HAPPY NEW YEAR! (Controlled chaos reigns on the streets)

(Now New Year’s Day, Sibling 1 and Sibling 2 stare vacantly for a few moments at the sparkling ball above the now-lit up year, then simultaneously perk up and tap mugs)

Sibling 1: Happy New Year!

Sibling 2: And a Happy New Year to you, too!

(They take a long sip, slightly burn their tongues, smack their lips in satisfaction, and sigh)

Sibling 2: (Looking into the mug) You know, we’re probably going to regret having something this heavy and this sweet this late in the night.  (Tilts head to think) Or is it now, this early in the morning?

 Sibling 1: (Takes a big gulp and swings the mug away with a flourish) Ahhhhh…. Totally worth it.  (Stares at the mug for a few moments, then over to Sibling 2) It’s funny, I never really thought about this before: you ever get a hangover?

Sibling 2: (After another sip) Hm, once.  Totally not worth it.

Sibling 1: Good to know.  (They watch the storm of confetti and the hugging, kissing, swaying, singing, and general good will on-screen for a bit) You know, I always feel a little different right at the beginning of a new year.

Sibling 2: Oh, really?

Sibling 1: Yeah; I dunno, I feel… renewed, rejuvenated, like anything’s possible and I finally can get my act together.

Sibling 2: Well, that’s… great.

Sibling 1: Yeah.  (Swirls the remaining chocolate in the mug for a bit before looking back at Sibling 2) It’s all gone by the time I wake up New Year’s morning, though.

Sibling 2: I figured.

Sibling 1: (Stares at the far wall) Yep: fall into the same old habits, the same old… rut.  No renewal, no rejuvenation; just back to my old routines like it’s the same year on repeat, and nothing changes for the better.

Sibling 2: Well, that’s not entirely true: you did stick to that workout routine you started a few years ago; that’s something.

Sibling 1: Yeah, but that was in a random March.  If it was in a New Year’s Day, I probably would’ve given up before I even started because the stakes would’ve felt too high.

Sibling 2: Maybe not.

Sibling 1: (Chuckling) Oh, I know me.  (Finishes off the hot chocolate, then gestures with the mug toward the kitchen) You good or you want some more?

Sibling 2: Still nursing mine, but thanks.

Sibling 1: Sure.  (Looks down at the empty mug, then places it off to the side on the floor and slouches back on the couch) I guess I should cut myself off at one – probably’ll wake up in a few hours anyway, cursing my past self and wondering where it all went wrong.

Sibling 2: I thought it was going to be totally worth it?

Sibling 1: My taste buds and brain say “Yes”, but my aging digestive system says “I hate you.”

Sibling 2: Know the feeling.  (Finishes off the hot chocolate and also sets the mug off to the side on the floor and slouches back on the couch as Sibling 1 uses a remote to turn off the TV) So, no New Year’s resolutions this time, huh?

Sibling 1: (Yawning) Well, I’ll just do the usual: try to be a better person, more patient, nicer, volunteer with worthy causes, solve all the world’s problems, prevent the inevitable end of the Universe, that sort of thing – but I always fail on Day 1, so I really don’t know why I bother.  You?

Sibling 2: (Also yawning) The usual: try to do as least damage as possible on my trips around the Sun until my inevitable end.

Sibling 1: (As they stare at each other while lying back on opposite ends of the couch; starting to fall asleep) Wow.  That’s a lofty goal....

Sibling 2: (While drifting off) Well, you know me: aim high.... 

HAPPY NEW ZZZZZZZZ....

Story 616: I Was Dreaming of a White Christmas… But Not Anymore

             December 24, 20XX 

Dear Santa, 

I would like to start this letter with an expression of gratitude, which I am certain is so rarely received on your end.  I can guarantee that 99.9999999%, if not 100%, of your one-way correspondence consists of “I want”, “I need”, “I really want”, and “GIMME!”, with not one piece of mail dated December 26 that is a thank-you note.  Well, let me be possibly the first – possibly the only – to write to you saying:

Thank you, dear Santa Claus, for all the bounty you have bestowed upon me over the years.  I deeply appreciate all the efforts of you, Mrs. Claus, the elves, the reindeer, and everyone else on your staff each and every year to please the materialist desires of all the children of the world, even if they are on the Naughty List (let’s face it, who has ever really gotten only coal as a present?  That’s what I thought).  Your hard work, and all the pleasure it brings, does not go unnoticed.

I especially appreciate the granting of my biggest request of all time that you finally granted last year: after so many unseasonably warm Christmases full of rain and mud, last year I wrote to you with all my heart asking for just one more true, magical, wondrous White Christmas.  And by golly, you delivered!  I looked out my window the morning of December 25 and the world was covered in a blanket of the good stuff, making everything look soft, wholesome, and beautiful.  It was glorious, and I will be eternally grateful to you for granting that request and creating a truly special day filled with the loveliness that only a winter wonderland can bring.

OK, now onto the meat of this criticism sandwich:

I realize that you are used to permanent winter up where you reside – I am guessing that you actually prefer it that way – but in the latitude where I reside, all the living creatures here have only ever lived in a climate with, you know, seasons.  It is possible that you may not be aware of this, but that amazing White Christmas you gifted last year never stopped.  As in, NEVER.  STOPPED.  We are now on Day 365 of continuous snowfall, with no end in sight due to the apparently self-perpetuating cloud formations that hover over us like a prophecy of doom fulfilled.  There was no spring, no summer, and no autumn; just one long, unending winter.   At first everyone laughed about it as January rolled into February, saying we finally got a real winter again after years of mush so of course we are never satisfied when it commits to the role, but then March rolled into April, and when Mother’s Day came around everyone knew we had a problem.  Thank goodness the effect was localized to our town and we never were cut off from outside deliveries of food and other necessities, but the animals who had migrated from force of habit still have not come back, and those who usually stick it out packed up and left in June, along with a third of the town’s human population.  And sure, there is sledding, and snowball fights, and occasional “snow days” that are rendered meaningless by technology for working or attending school remotely, but it all wears a bit then when you are falling on the icy sidewalk for the thirtieth time or watching yet another 10-car pile-up due to frozen potholes or the plows breaking down trying to keep up with the continual accumulation.  There are committees now that regularly patrol the streets knocking snow off of trees and checking homes’ and businesses’ rooftops so that the gradually increasing weight of all those pretty little frozen pieces of water do not crush everything underneath them.  I shovel a few inches outside my window at the end of every day just so I can look through it the following morning and confirm that the world out there still exists, and nearly everyone’s water pipers burst at least twice before a notice went out to wrap them all up and keep a hairdryer on standby.  The power surprisingly has mostly managed to stay on – there was one weekend we now refer to as “The Fourth of July Freeze-Out”, but otherwise electricity has been consistent.  Still, it is no fun trick-or-treating with snowshoes and ski poles – what kind of ballet dancer or astronaut is that supposed to be? – and all the ice cream parlors went out of business before we reached August in our Year Without a Summer.  At Thanksgiving, everyone said they were thankful that their furnaces still worked, and that was it.

So, I write to you again, dear Santa Claus, to please flip the switch on the never-ending snowfall, and bring back the rain – or, better yet, move along the permanent clouds for at least three months so that everything can dry out, and then bring back the rain in time for spring, and for at least something to grow this year.  We will even take a gentle tornado at this point, if only it would suck up all the snow that, at its current untouched height, has now surpassed the water tower.

I thank you again for last year’s thoughtful gift and humbly ask for this one last present, and I promise that I will never write to you asking for anything else for the rest of my life.

Well, except for maybe peace on Earth and goodwill toward all, but I know that is a bit of a stretch.

                                                                         With Shivering Affection, 

                                                                         Snowed-In Sandy, Age 10

Story 615: Destination: North Pole – Santa’s House

             Expedition Log, Day 165: I pause in the middle of my trek through the Arctic tundra to enter these notes before reaching my final goal, the North Pole.  Specifically: Santa’s Workshop.  The dogs who I commandeered to pull me along with the supply sled have long since abandoned us both and reclaimed their freedom – can’t say I blame them.  Those supplies have dwindled to the point where I may not have enough for the return journey: water is not an issue since I am surrounded by it in a semi-frozen state, but food may be since any animals who actually live up here are scarce, I’m no hunter anyway, and plants suitable for my species to survive apparently don’t thrive in this biome.  On the other hand, the journey back should be significantly shorter than the journey here since, due to a grave miscalculation, I originally found myself on the opposite side of the planet in the South Pole (the presence of penguins revealed my error).

No matter: at last, I have reached journey’s end, and am ready to confront The Man, The Myth, The Legend in his stronghold.  Wish me luck!

(Explorer trudges through the mountains of snow toward a large castle, stops at the main entrance to hyperventilate a bit, and raises a fist to pound on the front door)

Santa Claus: (Opening the door before Explorer can pound on it) Ah, you made it!  Come on in!  (Holds the door open wider and waves Explorer inside)

Explorer: (Still standing with fist raised) Diiiiiiid you know I was coming?

Santa Claus: Of course!  “He sees you when you’re sleeping”, and all that.  Naturally, that’s just hyperbole: I don’t watch anyone sleeping, that’s creepy.  (Explorer still stands there) So, you coming in or what?  The heat’s getting out.

Explorer: Oh!  Right.  (Finally lowers the raised hand and rushes into a large room filled with cushioned furniture, Christmas decorations, and a huge roaring fireplace as Santa Claus bolts the door shut)  This… isn’t your workshop.

Santa Claus: (Walks to the fireplace and increases the settings from “Full Blast” to “Inferno”) Hm?  Oh, yes, the factory’s in the back courtyard – we moved operations off-site about a century ago so the missus and elves and I could really “go home” after a hard day’s work, know what I mean?  So – (Gestures to a gigantic sofa) Have a seat!  I’ll get something to warm you right up – favorite’s still peppermint hot cocoa with a little whipped cream on top, yes?

Explorer: (Sinking slowly into the sofa, full-body shaking reduced to a gentle shiver) Um, yes please, thank you.

Santa Claus: Coming right up!  Think I’ll make one for myself, too.  (Hums “Deck the Halls” while entering an industrial kitchen, then magics up two large mugs of hot cocoa and a plate of cookies and brings them out on a tray) Here you are!

Explorer: (Staring in awe at the tray) Wow, that’s amazing!  Thanks, Santa!  (Takes a mug)

Santa Claus: Ho-ho-ho, my pleasure!  Cookie?  Fresh out of the oven, in a manner of speaking.

Explorer: Oh sure, yes, thank you!  (Takes a sugar cookie, bites into it, and closes eyes) Tastes like childhood….

Santa Claus: (Sets the tray onto a large low table and sits in an armchair) Wait till you drink the cocoa.  You don’t even have to wait for it to cool off – it’s not too hot, not too cold.

(They both take a sip, then sigh)

Explorer: Heaven.

Santa Claus: Close enough.  So!  (Places the mug onto a coaster on the table) Now that you’re safely back from borderline hypothermia, what brings you all the way to this end of the globe, hm?

Explorer: Well, not to sound rude, but like you said earlier, don’t you already know?

Santa Claus: I do, but I’d rather hear it in your own words.

Explorer: OK.... (Takes another contented sip and then sets down the mug on a coaster) Well, Santa, I came all this way, looking for you, for a very special request.  (Santa Claus nods in encouragement) I’ll keep giving presents and donating and all that, but the one gift I want this year is something literally no one else on Earth can give me, and you’re my last hope.

Santa Claus: Yes?

Explorer: This year, I want… well… I want what I lost.  I want… The Spirit.

Santa Claus: Of… Christmas Past?

Explorer: No!  Well, actually, sort of: I want The Spirit of the Season.  That I used to have.

Santa Claus: (Chuckles) Ah yes, of course.  Please go on.

Explorer: (Stands and starts pacing around the sofa) It’s hard to explain.  I mean, I know I was lucky.  I grew up in a great family and a great home, and Christmas was always a wonderful time of year for me – I’m not talking about the presents, it was everything else: the decorations, the snow, the cookies, the ice skating, the caroling, the parties with family and friends, the Advent wreaths, the Nativity scenes, the colored lights hung up everywhere, and just the – the –

Santa Claus: (Nods encouragingly) Yes?

Explorer: (Stops pacing) The feeling!  Warmth, happiness – joy!  Joy to the world, and I truly believed it!  And then… and now… (Sinks into the sofa again) it’s all gone.

Santa Claus: Hm.  I think that’s called “puberty”.

Explorer: Oh, Santa!  (Slumps further into the sofa) I could take almost every other disappointment growing up, but I tried so hard to hold onto – this – (Waves at the surrounding room) and it still got away from me!  Why do hormones have to ruin everything?!

Santa Claus: I think if we knew the answer to that, there truly would be peace on Earth.  Now, you know I can’t give you your childhood back –

Explorer: (Grumbles, staring at a pillow with a giant nutcracker embroidered on it) I know, I know.

Santa Claus: (Laying a finger aside of his nose) BUT – (Explorer perks up) I can give you one day.

Explorer: One day?

Santa Claus: Yes: One Christmas Day to relive, your happiest one, from when you were, let me think… (Strokes beard in thought) yes!  When you were 8: old enough to really appreciate everything, and far enough back when your grandparents and first furry companions still were with us, and you were surrounded by family and love and joy and all was right in your own world.  Would you like that?

Explorer: (Stands, almost in tears) Oh Santa, that sounds wonderful, thank-you-thank-you-thank-you!

Santa Claus: (Also stands and the two hug) Of course!  After all, you’ve always been on the Nice List.

Explorer: (Sniffles) I try!

Santa Claus: (Patting Explorer soothingly on the back) And if this’ll keep you from tracking me down at home in the future….

Explorer: (Pulls back) Oh Santa, you’ll never see me ever again!  One day, from when I was truly happy, will be enough to last all my life!

Santa Claus: I certainly hope so.

(Explorer, age 8, wakes up on Christmas morning)

Explorer: (Jumps out of bed and runs to the living room) It’s Christmas, yay!

(Family members are sitting on the floor and in chairs facing the Christmas tree; snow is falling gently outside, carols are playing from a speaker nearby, and the smell of pine and cookies fill the air)

Family Members: Merry Christmas!

Explorer: Merry Christmas, everybody!  (Goes around the room hugging parents, grandparents, siblings, and a cat and dog) This is the best Christmas ever!

(Back in the North Pole, Santa Claus is seated on the sofa and watches the scene on a flat-screen television above the fireplace as Mrs. Claus enters from another room, wearing overalls and taking off work gloves)

Santa Claus: (Turns away from the screen) Hello, dear; how was the factory today?

Mrs. Claus: (Puts on a cozy velvet dress over the overalls) Everything’s running smoothly, love: I finished fixing the video game generator for when you take over on tomorrow’s shift.

Santa Claus: Splendid, thank you!  (Turns back to the television and watches 8-year-old Explorer and family opening presents)

Mrs. Claus: (Walks up behind the sofa to watch) Manipulating the laws of time and space again, are we?

Santa Claus: Hm?  (Turns back to look at Mrs. Claus) Oh no, this is all in that child’s head.  (Points to Explorer on the screen) Well, that child’s actually an adult now, and the one thing wanted for Christmas was the Spirit of the Season that was lost at some point, so I gave the gift of reliving good memories.  Came all the way up here to ask and everything.

Mrs. Claus: Ah, so that’s why you wanted today off.  Why didn’t you just tell me?

Santa Claus: Well, there was an off-chance that even though the trek was long, this one’d turn tail and head home at the last minute, so I didn’t want to spoil things by mentioning it out loud beforehand.  Superstitious, I know, but there it is.

Mrs. Claus: Understood.  So your guest is all snug in bed at home right now?

Santa Claus: Mm-hm.  And having a wonderful dream, if I may say so myself.  Even though it’s from memories, I made it happen.

Mrs. Claus: Uh-huh.  I thought you didn’t watch them while they’re sleeping?

Santa Claus: …Well, I’m not watching the person, I’m watching the dream.

Mrs. Claus: Ah, got it.

Santa Claus: (Turning full attention back to the screen) Troublemaker.  (Mrs. Claus chuckles)

(On the screen, Explorer looks around at the happy scene and then up at the Santa Claus tree topper)

Explorer: (Whispering) Thank you, Santa.

Santa Claus: (As Mrs. Claus lovingly squeezes his shoulder; he pats her hand and takes off his glasses to brush away a tear) I love my job.

Story 614: When the Cat Takes Over the Christmas Tree

             In a break from my routine of sleeping-eating-napping-eating-resting-playing-eating-sleeping-napping-sleeping-training the servants-sleeping-deeper sleeping-relaxing, the servants have suddenly installed a new object for my entertainment.  At first glance, I thought it was one of those outdoor prey towers – the trunk and needles were a clever ruse – but one whiff revealed the lie.  Whatever it is, it imitates Nature but is in itself Unnatural; the servants may have fooled themselves, but not me.  Never me.  Still – can’t turn down an opportunity to ascend the highest heights, so up I climb….

Parent 1: Honey, have you seen the cat?

Parent 2: Not lately; did you check behind the couch?

Parent 1: Yeah, and also the backs of the closets – nothing.

Parent 2: Well, she couldn’t have gotten out, so just let’s start decorating the Christmas tree and she’ll eventually turn up to play with the tissue paper.

From my strategic position near the top of this so-called “tree”, I observe the servants below adding oddly-shaped items to the branches.  This all seems familiar, although I can’t specifically recall seeing them do this before.  Then again, I can’t specifically recall seeing anything before, so that isn’t too concerning.

Parent 1: Heh, remember this ornament?

Parent 2: Oh yeah, that was from our trip last summer.

Parent 1: …It was three summers ago.

Parent 2: Really?... Oh yeah, I guess it was.  Well, there goes my life.

Little do they know that I wait in the recesses of this tower as they come closer and closer with their baubles – soon, if I am patient, those treasures will be mine.

Parent 2: You think we should leave off some stuff this year?  I feel like we get more and more ornaments but less and less tree.

Parent 1: Nah, that’s a slippery slope: you leave off some ornaments one year, and soon enough it’s entire boxes that sit unopened year after year after year.

Parent 2: I guess, but at some point I start wondering if there are so many that they’re smothering the lights and creating a fire hazard.

Parent 1: That’s a good point…. Remember the bubble lights we had back in the day?  Talk about a hazard.

Parent 2: Yeah, but they were also strangely soothing.

The bipeds have overcome their literal shortcomings by artificially increasing their height with a metal contraption, and are now encroaching onto my territory – the treasures start to invade my space – I must assert my dominance now or be forever oppressed by these creatures –

Parent 1: Aaaaaahhhhh!!!!

Parent 2: Whoa, careful on the ladder!  What happened?!

Parent 1: …I found the cat.

Parent 2: What?  Ohhhhh, how’d you get in there, sweetie?  Here, let me get you out of all that, you widdle sugar plum dumpling baby!  Now, let’s go riiiiiiiight over to your food, and stay out of that big ol’ tree – we wouldn’t want you breaking anything or hurting yourself, would we, cuddle-pie?

Parent 1: Almost gave me a heart attack.  How’d she get all the way up there without us seeing?

Parent 2: Who knows?  They can get in the highest and the tightest spaces without disturbing a thing – I just don’t want her getting stuck in there or knocking stuff off or, perish the thought, knocking the whole tree over.

Parent 1: Ugh, could you imagine the mess?  Definitely would take me out of the holiday spirit having to clean that up.

As I gnaw on these bland rocks they dare to present to me as “food”, I unobtrusively monitor their progress in covering the “tree” with artificial nonsense, and plot my revenge.  Yes – while they sleep – that is when I will summit the monolith and declare my victory over their feeble attempts at usurping my authority.

That star at the top will be the first to go.