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I STEPPED OUT OF THE car and entered the center of town. I had the driver park away from the crowds so I could have a moment to absorb the festivities from afar. The new boots the elves had made for me were warm on my feet. They had the look of the most expensive boots money could buy, with their shiny black fabric markedly in contrast with the white ribbing. They looked like silk, but the elves assured me they wouldn’t get marred by the snow.
The elves even gave my clothes back. I wore my high-waisted black skirt along with my fitted, white cashmere sweater. It was a little homage to the family I missed dearly, for it was the outfit I was going to wear to my parents’ house on Christmas Day.
I moved closer to Town Square. The lights, the decorations, the music, and the all-penetrating joy wrapped me up in a big, warm hug. I stood in awe, admiring the decorated streetlights and the gold velvet benches that lined the sidewalks. Children tossed ready-made red and green snowballs. A band busied themselves setting up on the makeshift stage. Food stands ran out from the stage and then stands with crafts and books and every other sort of item spread out down the street from there. I heard people bartering items for their family’s Christmas presents as a group of elves stood by to wrap the gifts before their soon-to-be recipients discovered them. People traded baked goods and swapped recipes and just admired the work of their neighbors.
I turned my head to the sky as a light dusting of snow began, glittering like tiny diamonds in the lamplight.
“You’re a nosy, bull-headed witch, Cinnamon Mercy,” came a voice from behind me.
I spun around to witness my grandmother’s toes touching down on the soft snow. I looked up above her, seeing nothing she could have alighted from.
“Did you make it snow?” I questioned.
“What’s a Winter Solstice party without a little snow?” she asked. She threw her hands above her head and the snowflakes combined into huge cotton ball puffs. They dropped from the sky in lazy circles, one landing on my nose, and then floating off onto the ground.
“They’re not even wet,” I said, as I captured one in my hand and it retained its shape.
“Of course not,” my grandmother said with all the haughtiness of the powerful witch she was. The surrounding air suddenly grew calm, and I removed my hood and unbuttoned my coat.
There were squeals of delight as the children all started peeling off their coats, now running unencumbered through the streets.
It was then that Santa Claus stepped out of the crowd.
The children stopped amidst their snowball fight, backpedaling up upon the sidewalk, their mouths open with the awe and wonder that was Santa.
He pulled off his Santa hat and stuffed it inside his coat pocket. He raked his hand through his beard. All movement up and down the street stopped as he walked toward us, the streetlights backlighting him into a being of great stature.
I could see the nervousness of the elves closest to us as they glanced fervently between my grandmother and Santa. A hand grasped my arm, and I allowed it to guide me out of the street and up onto the sidewalk. Danny wrapped his arm in mine, and we both watched with bated breath to see what was about to transpire.
My grandmother didn’t move, her hands on her hips, waiting for my grandfather to reach her. He paused for a moment, his toes practically touching her own. And then, without speaking, he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close to him. My grandmother’s stoic posture relaxed as her body melted into the man she has loved for the past 200 years.
Her voice danced across the falling snow and to my ears. “I love you always.”
Then she kissed Grandpop Santa on the nose and backed away from him. My grandmother raised her arms to the sky, and a devilish twinkle crossed her eyes. The sky opened at her command.
A torrent of snow cascaded down upon Santa. It clung to his beard and slid down inside his coat. All voices held. All breaths stayed.
Then his eyes twinkled with the magic that was Santa. He smiled at the witch he loved, at the witch he would continue to love for all their years to come.
When he turned, he gave me a wink of his eye.
Then his belly shook as he lifted his arms to the sky.
A roar of laughter ran from his lips.
The joy that was him ran amiss.
Children laughed and squealed in delight.
And now, I say to you all, Merry Christmas. And to all, a good night.
Dear Reader,
Whether this book has made you laugh, made you cry, or made you giggle with glee over the magic that is Christmas, know that hearing this from my readers is why I keep on writing. It warms my soul, and I thank you for leaving a review.
Snow