Santa half-full (Long - but fun)

Santa Half Full1

  I know the poem says that the night before Christmas is motionless but this is an SCA household and there had been far too much overtime to allow for shopping. Finally my daughter Barbara had gone to bed and I could not really care what danced in her head as long as she slept late in the morning. I still had packing, wrapping, and cooking to do before then. At least I did not have to make any garb. God, do I need garb for the boxing-day bash? 2

  The evening finally came to an end and all the work that could be done was. Now it was time for relaxation. Allison and I curled up on the big couch with the cats on the back to slowly sip our eggnog and watch the flickering lights of the tree. Silence reigned and I appreciated it as only one with children can. It might have been minutes or perhaps hours that passed I could not tell but a movement out of the corner of my eye startled me. There at my side stood my youngest daughter, Barbara.3

  "Dad, she said sleepily, I have to leave out cookies and milk for Santa."4

  "Alright sweetheart, you do that and then give me a hug before you head back to bed," I replied quietly not wanting to disturb the peace. “Grab one of the glasses off the drying rack.” It always bothered me that I did not know how long she was standing there watching me as I slept.5

  Moments later I got my hug and she silently padded back to the spare bedroom. 6

  The long hours were finally catching up to me and my eyes slowly began to close. It was so quiet and relaxing that I could not imagine getting up for anything. Until suddenly I leapt from the couch with a lap full of eggnog, which my drowsing hand had dropped. Splattered with the remainder of the drink I could only smile as I thought about yet another perfect archery release, smooth and resistance free, as the hand allows the string or in this case the glass, to push it out of the way. Screw that, I wanted to wear these jeans tomorrow.7

  Moving to the bedroom and settling in for the night with both cats, Minstrel and Chicane, we were sound asleep before our heads hit the pillows. 8

  With two cats and a pregnant wife you never really sleep through any night. The cats  are constantly moving and will occasionally yowl you awake. But tonight as they gently serenaded I awoke wide-eyed with the sounds of muttering coming from the living room. Picking up my rattan sword I crept to find what was the matter. 9

  By the light of the trees I could make out a large red coat and a bushy head of white hair sitting on the couch. I could hear him sobbing and muttering to himself, "half full, half empty, and then again, half full."10

  Being of sound mind most of the time, I asked, "Santa?"11

  He turned to me slightly and nodded. Then returned his head to his hands and his weeping continued. 12

  I kept the sword handy and settled in on the couch opposite what should have been a jolly old man. He looked as I expected he should have, white hair and beard, red coat, large black belt, and large black boots. I knew quite a few people who would have been envious of the belt and boots but that was not was the concern here.13

  I asked again, "Santa?"14

  He took a composing breath and raised his head to look at me. His red cheeks were shiny with tears and his eyes red from crying. 15

  "What is the matter Santa, " I whispered?16

  Keeping his head down this time he explained, "The glass is only partially filled with milk and that led me to think about all the folks at Christmas who will be either happy or sad by the presents that are left for them under the tree. It is a very hard burden to have placed on your shoulders."17

  Being a normal guy I put on my fix-it hat and had a go at this problem. "Well Santa, I don't think the young girl that left the milk out for you had any intentions to cause you such grief. Perhaps if we look at it in a slightly different perspective things might fall into place." 18

  He raised his head up and finally there appeared some hope in his eyes. He motioned for me to continue. 19

  "Well, I started, hoping for some inspiration to kick in. Well, I think that if you only look at the world as pessimists or optimists then the glass and milk situation causes problems. A realist would perhaps look at an empty milk carton in the garbage and see the cause behind the quandary. I was beginning to get into a rhythm. 20

  "Then again, a real optimist might look with the eyes of a Macandrew and see this as something great." I reached slowly for the Christmas tree and found the bottle I had placed there earlier. Tearing off the top of the wrapping paper I gave the bottle a couple of quick shakes and popped open the lid. Picking up the milk glass I added the Athol Brose to the milk and motioned for Santa to pick up the now full glass. 21

  He took a tentative sniff and then with a tip of his glass he tossed back half of the mix. His eyes lit up and he held the once again half empty glass over to me to fill once again. Now the half empty glass did not seem to bother him. We continued this procedure twice more and I could finally see the twinkle return his eyes and the ruddy red glow back to his cheeks. Finally, he set the now empty glass on the table and scooped the cookies into a pocket. 22

  "For the reindeers, he said, I have to watch my intake."23

  When he reached the patio door he turned back to me, “Thank you and to all a good night.”24

  That was more than enough of a reply then I needed. On this night of all nights to be able to help another was more reward than any could desire. 25

  I returned to the couch and was soon joined by the cat, Chicane. She curled up beside me and as usual I began petting her. She raised her head up and rubbed her soaking wet chin against my hand. I snapped my hand back and quickly turned on the light. Chicane was covered in milk. Realizing what had happened I picked up the bottle of Athol Brose and toasted poor old Saint Nick. Neither Chicane or Minstral would get any of this drink.26

Merry Christmas to all27