the gas station. Yesterday I took my neighbor to the local garage to pick up her car. While I was waiting in the car with my granddaughter and her friend, I noticed a decommissioned U-haul truck at the gas station next to the garage.
Normally, it wouldn't have made much of an impression but Santa was pumping gas. His suit was pristine, his beard snowy white, and he wore black boots on his feet. We all watched him for a long time--the children quite excited--while he filled the gas tank on the truck.
The kids speculated about a lot of things. Why was he driving a truck? What happened to his reindeer and sleigh? When I suggested he might be picking up presents to take to the North Pole, they were aghast at the idea that the elves might not make ALL the presents.
One of them mentioned that Santa could come right over to the house since he was already in the neighborhood, but I squashed that notion pointing out that it isn't yet Christmas Eve. They were distracted when they noticed someone else in the truck cab. "It's Mrs. Santa," said my granddaughter's little friend.
I couldn't really see that well, so I agreed that it might be. Just then, Mrs. Santa popped out of the truck as Santa finished his gas pumping chores. They embraced, kissing in a very un-Santa-like fashion. Then they climbed up into the truck and drove away.
The kids were goggle-eyed at that kiss. One of them asked, "But aren't they too old for that mushy stuff?"
My neighbor, who had returned just before Santa left, calmly brushed off their concerns. "The mushy stuff lasts as long as you want it to."
"Ohhhhh." More food for thought there.
Then it was time to go home. Those few enchanted moments brightened the evening though. Suddenly anything seemed possible. After all, what could be more impossible than seeing Santa at the gas station?
Speaking of impossible. Today, the househunk and I mark 42 years in the marriage race. Some days it seems it passed as swiftly as an eagle. Other days it was slower than molasses in July. That's pretty much the way marriage is. There are great days, bad days, and a lot of ordinary days that we don't always value until we have the advantage of perspective and time.
To the hunk...Thank you for hanging in there with me through the good, bad, and especially the ordinary! I love you.