Lindy bumps me with her shoulder. “The right guy will come along, Bree. That I can promise you.”
I wink at her. “Maybe Santa will be able to find him for me.”
“Ask him,” Brittany says, her voice all cute and innocent. “I’ll do it for you.”
Brittany’s only four years old, but she’s smart as can be. “Thank you, Britt. Maybe if we both ask him it’ll happen.”
My dad’s friend, Jody, is already in place at the sleigh, looking exactly like Santa Claus in my grandfather’s costume and red and white hat with the puffball on the end. One thing I loved about my grandfather was that his beard was real. Jody’s is the same, and he starts growing it out in the middle of the year to get ready for Christmas.
He spots me with Lindy and waves. The line is already long, but it moves fast. “Go get in line, and I’ll see you both up there.” I give Britt a quick squeeze. “I’ll sneak you an extra candy cane.”
She snickers. “Okay.”
I walk past all the kids in line, and almost all of them know me since I’ve been Santa’s elf for twenty-two years. Jody stands and hugs me. “Ready for another season?”
I laugh. “You bet.”
He lets me go and sits down on the sleigh. “Thank you for doing this with me.”
Looking out at all the smiling faces in the crowd, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Seeing all the joy really does make me happy. “I love doing it. It makes me feel like my granddaddy’s right here with me.”
“And he is,” Jody murmurs. “This was his favorite time of the year.”
I wave my hands in front of my face to keep from crying. “Mine too. All right, let’s get to work.” Turning toward our waiting guests, I wave for the first little boy and his mother to come up. His name is Matthew, and I remember him from last year. He had asked for a real-life dinosaur, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t get it. “Hey there, Matthew. I think you grew two inches since last year.” I wink at his mother, and she smiles. I help him up onto Santa’s lap, and he goes through his spiel of everything he wants. Usually, kids all want the same things: electronics, money, games, dolls, etc. Sometimes, we get children who want their deceased loved ones back or their pets who died. It breaks my heart because I know there’s no way they can get them back.
Once Matthew finishes his visit, I help several dozen other kids onto Santa’s lap and send them off with a candy cane. Next in line is Brittany, and she’s bouncing with excitement. I pick her up and set her onto Santa’s knee.
“I remember you,” Santa tells her. “Brittany, right?”
Brittany beams. “Yes.”
Jody winks up at me and then focuses back on her. “What would you like to have this Christmas?”
Brittany closes a hand over her mouth and giggles while she goes through her list. It turns out I have a couple of the things she wants already wrapped and ready for her. Once she’s done, she starts to slide off his lap but then stops. “Oh, I also want to ask for one more thing.”
Santa leans in close. “What is it?”
Brittany smiles up at me. “I want Aunt Bree to be happy.”
“I see,” Santa says. “And how can I make her happy?”
Brittany giggles again. “She wants a boyfriend.”
It takes all I have not to burst out laughing. What she’s saying is so sweet. Santa hands her a candy cane and laughs. “All right, sweet Brittany, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Santa.”
Lindy comes up and helps Brittany off the sleigh. “Try hard on that last request, Santa.”
“Yes, please do,” I add, whispering the words to him.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry. You’ll meet him very soon.”2CalebHiring a moving company to move Alyssa and me from Charlotte back to my hometown of Meadowbrook was the best idea I’ve come up with in about a year. The hassle of moving is far less of a nightmare when someone else is doing all the heavy lifting for you. I just wish the moving company had to unpack, put away, and decorate my new house as well. I sigh heavily as I look at the perfectly square brown boxes stacked throughout my living room. Granted, they’re stacked in an orderly fashion and tucked into the corner. If I had moved them, they’d be haphazardly strewn everywhere. Boxes for the living room would be in the bathroom, and the things I need for the kitchen would be in my bedroom closet. Disorganized is the only way to describe my life right now.
Instead of unpacking, I sit down on the couch, lean back, close my eyes, and ignore the thick plastic covering the new sofa. When I decided to move, I did so knowing I needed a fresh start. This meant new furniture. Not just in the living room, but the dining and bedrooms as well. Even the bathrooms have new bathmat colors and towels. My therapist disagreed with me, so I replaced her as well. Well, not exactly. I just quit going. I wasn’t going to pay someone to tell me I’m making a mistake in the way I’m handling my grief or how I decide to start over. What works for one isn’t necessarily going to work for another, and for me, everything needs to be new. It’s not that I’m trying to forget my wife; it’s that I’m trying to move on and give my daughter the happiest life I can, and if that means new furniture, then so be it.