It was Christmas Eve and Santa was hiding in plain sight. The big famous downtown department store had hired him as their St. Nick — and this was his final shift of the season. He helped the last child off his lap and watched as she and her mother walked toward the door. Ho ho ho. It was over.
Santa stood up, stretched and headed to the locker room to change. He removed his fake beard, put his red coat in his locker and grabbed his overcoat and brown felt hat. The elves wished him a Merry Christmas and they all headed for the employee entrance. Santa walked out onto Broadway and turned north. Heavy sleet and overcast made a gray city that much grayer.
There were no reindeer. No elves. No magical sleigh. He did not deliver toys to kids around the world on Christmas Eve. As much as he’d like to, it was just not physically possible. But he did believe in Christmas miracles. And his job allowed him to hear what thousands of kids wanted from Santa. He did his best to let their parents know what they wanted under the tree. The parents were his elves. And the parents did a fine job. But occasionally there’d be a request that a parent couldn’t handle. That’s when he’d step in.
The cold sleet stung his face. As he briskly walked, his breath hung in front of him like pipe smoke. He looked up at the red and green lights on the tall sky scraper. Low clouds tried to shroud it — but enough lights burned through to reveal the season. The sleet came down harder. Hurried shoppers rushed for the cover of home. People always wondered why people in the city moved so fast. Santa knew the reason: The city was cold and miserable.
He came to the slick stairs of the subway tunnel and walked gingerly down them. The rail was icy, so he slowly made his way to his train. He had to get home because his cat was hungry. There was no Mrs. Claus — another myth created by the advertising agencies. The turnstile beeped as he passed through and headed for the express train. A TV on the wall had a earnest young reporter reporting the latest news from Wall Street. Sleet fell on her, too, as she described the day’s terrible economic news. The markets had crashed again. Santa closed his eyes and remembered the dark days in the 1930’s. He felt a gust of wind that announced the coming train.
Santa bullied his way onto the crowded train and found a place to stand. Santa looked at the crowded car. A short Indian man stared blankly out the window. An older lady fumbled with her packages. An Irish man gripped his brief case like his life depended on it. An older black gentleman read the Wall Street Journal. And a man and four kids took up the seats on the right side of the train.
The man was probably 40. He had dark circles under his eyes and it seemed that he had nothing behind them. It was like his soul had been sucked out and nothing but a void remained. The kids were running up and down the crowded car, bumping into the other passengers and generally annoying everyone. The man just sat there, not uttering a sound to his own kids. The other passengers glowered at him and the children.
Santa walked over and sat next to the man and put his arm around him. The man turned his head slowly and looked at him. “I’m sorry. My wife just died. Some Christmas present, huh?” Santa just nodded and pushed his upper lip into his mouth.
“My wife took care of Christmas every year. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I found her list in the room of what the kids wanted but honestly, I can’t afford anything. I owe the hospital $250,000. ”
Santa spoke, “May I see the list?”
The man handed over the list to the stranger — for some reason, it seemed like the right thing to do. Santa studied the list and handed back to the man. “Have the kids been good?” The man nodded.
Santa herded the kids together and handed them some candy canes. “You be good for your Daddy. It would be the best Christmas present you could give him this year.” The kids, sensing there was magic in the man on the Subway, went and sat quietly next to their dad. Santa smiled, looked up and said, “This is my stop. Merry Christmas.” He got up, turned around and looked at the man and said, “As long as there is love in the world, you should never stop believing.”
Santa headed off to the train and on to his one-room apartment. His cat Rudolph would be glad to see him.
Christmas morning had arrived. The sleet had moved east and revealed a cool, crisp day full of love and presents. In a small apartment uptown, a man and four small kids ran into their living room. “I’m sorry kids, there’s not much under the tree this year. Santa wanted to do more, but you know these are tough times.” But as he finished talking, he noticed a pile of packages over to the right of the fake tree.
Each box had each one of the children’s names on it. He handed the mysterious packages to each child and when they opened them, they found they contained the very things that were on the list their mom had made. A doll. A train. A video game. A helicopter. Each of the kids ran around the room, excited about his or her new toy.
The man then saw an envelope on the tree. He picked it up, ripped it open and pulled two pieces of paper out of it. One was a check. The man looked at it and it was for $250,000 made out to the hospital. The other was a note. The man unfolded it and read it aloud, “As long as there is love in the world, you should never stop believing. Merry Christmas, Santa.”
The man fell to his knees and sobbed. And on that day, life returned to his eyes. Santa was real. He was holding proof that Christmas miracles do indeed come true.
And in a single-room apartment, an old man enjoyed a fine breakfast with his cat Rudolph. Both watched the movie A Christmas Story and laughed with great joy.
