No road is long with good company.
~Turkish Proverb
Driving after midnight was always peaceful. The midnight sky in West Texas after a Christmas Eve service, well, that is in a class all to itself. The deep navy sky punctuated with stars shining like crystals hanging from a chandelier was nothing new. Driving along a highway in far West Texas, we might as well have been the only people in the world. There were no lights, no other vehicles, no towns. Just absolute dark pierced by the stars and our car lights. No sound other than the hum of tires on the highway and the soft sounds of my daughters.
Usually my daughters slept the thirty-five miles back to the ranch. This night was different. Six-year-old Mitty was uncharacteristically fussy and tired. She wanted to be home in her bed. Her big sister, Sarah, tried to dissuade her, but there was no distracting Mitty from her thoughts, and disappointment was sure to follow. Suddenly, I thought of the CB radio. I plucked the mike off the seat and handed it over the back to Mitty, suggesting she try calling Santa. She looked doubtful but at least it would keep her occupied. Her older sister Sarah wanted a little peace and quiet as well, so she too encouraged her to call Santa.
“Breaker one nine, this is the Little Peanut calling for Santa.”
“Santa? Are you there?” The only sounds were the humming of tires and static on the radio. Tears came to my eyes at the innocence of this precious child. We waited. She repeated her call.
“Breaker one nine for the Jolly Elf. This is the Little Peanut. Over.”
Soft static from the radio and the soft hum of night driving. Nothing else.
“Aw, Mom. There probably isn’t really a Santa Claus.” Disappointed silence.
As she handed the mike over the seat there was crackling of static and the sound that comes with thumbing the mike.
“Come back Little Peanut. This is the Jolly Elf. What are you doing up so late?” Mitty gasped. Sarah sat up straighter in the backseat. I felt a huge lump in my throat.
Mitty took back the mike and stammered, “This is the Little Peanut. Where are you Santa? What’s your twenty?”
“Well, Little Peanut, I’m somewhere overhead and I can’t finish my evening until you are in bed asleep.”
“I’ve been to midnight mass, Santa. We are almost home. Please wait. Over.”
“This is the Jolly Old Elf. You go straight to bed. I’ll wait, Little Peanut. Out.”
By then I was unashamedly crying. I had thought I knew most of the voices on our tower, but that night it was a stranger’s voice.
It was the voice of Santa.
