He stared through the glass at the baby struggling in ICU. Christmas Eve. The man held his head his hands. The weight of the world was held up by his neck.
He was tired.
There would be no Christmas miracle for him and his newborn child this year. A few hours before, he had seen his soul mate go through a living hell. Now, he was alone with his newborn son and a four-year-old daughter while his wife struggled in Intensive Care. Would she survive? Would his newborn survive? How would he tell his daughter about today? He wasn’t so sure he understood himself. Christmas would forever be scarred for his family.
He realized that Santa would have to come that night. Santa. Oh — all the things he wanted Santa to bring him. His wife back would be a nice start. “Dear Santa, could you please allow her to open her eyes?” he thought. He clutched her cross in his hands and looked up. He’d have to appeal to a higher power.
Three in the morning is a quiet time of the night. Even the criminals are in bed at that late hour so he had the town to himself. His daughter was asleep with her grandmother’s house in the suburbs. The baby was wired in the hospital’s pediatric wing a few blocks away. His wife clung to life in ICU. Santa was busy making his rounds on the other side of the world; he would never remember a newborn child. The weary father ducked into a liquor store to help the Jolly Ol’ Elf out.
That morning, Santa did come. His daughter was awash in a sea of pink toys at her grandma’s. The baby received a shot glass with “It’s five o’clock somewhere” printed on it’s side and a deck of playing cards from Santa. (and a little help from a liquor store. ) The father walked into his wife’s room and saw her clinging to life. He dropped to his knees, gripped her hand and clutched the cross with all his might and said, “Merry Christmas.”
Her hand gripped his back.
Santa did come that cold Christmas morning. Wishes did come true. And thirty years later, the whole family sat at the dining room table and celebrated that Christmas Miracle. Each made a toast to life with an old shot glass that had “It’s five o’clock somewhere” printed on it’s side.
