Merrie and bright

Merrie couldn’t find her husband anywhere. The day before Christmas Eve was always busy, and at nine-thirty in the morning she’d expect to find him in the warehouse, checking on packing and loading and last-minute orders.

She asked the elves, but none had seen him. So she checked the offices, tearoom, basement, storerooms.

Concerned, she went out to the stables, where she spotted boot prints tracking through the snow towards the old workshops. And following the prints, she finally found him, hands in pockets, staring out towards the snowy forest.

“Hey, Santa. What are you doing out here on your own?”

Her husband has many names, but Merrie preferred Santa.

“Just, you know, pondering.”

He sounded downbeat.

“Thought you’d abandoned us.”

Merrie chuckled, meaning it jokily. Obviously he would never do that.

But Santa replied, “Might as well, for all the good I seem to do these days.” He scratched at his thick, white beard. “Ho, ho, flamin’ ho.”

“Don’t be like that.” She poked his belly affectionately. “You know how important you are.”

“Am I? Important? I do wonder.” He sighed. “I’ve been doing this for years and years now. . .”

Hundreds of years, actually. And Merrie didn’t regret a single moment of any of them.

“And I remember when life was simpler. Wooden animals could light up a child’s face. Fruit in a stocking. Songs around the piano. Now it’s all phones and tablets and. . .”

“Times change,” Merrie cut in. “As they should.”

“S’pose I’ve become an old fogey.” He shook his head. “People just don’t seem to appreciate the simple joy and beauty in the world these days. They hate too easily. If they can’t be bothered to make an effort, why should I?”

“Because you make a difference.”

“Do I? Really?”

“Come on now. You know you do.”

This had been bubbling up for some years now. Summers were the worst, when business was slow.

The early part of the year was busy with spring-cleaning and warehouse overhaul. Then by October, Santa was back in the swing of it all again.

This year, however, even through November and December, Santa’s mood had been low. Even the reindeer noticed. Rudolph’s nose had faded.

And Merrie didn’t like it.

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