Santa

Door No. 19

Their little village was always alive for the holidays. The Christmas market flooded the streets, greenery and lights were draped over the window boxes of every house, and the air was fragrant with gingerbread and mulled wine as the snow from Karwendel's peaks drifted into the valley.

It had always been Elsie's favorite time of the year. Since she was a little girl, she counted down the days until her family could bring in their own Christmas tree. She spent hours in the kitchen helping her mother make confections and prepare for the large traditional dinner. She waited anxiously through Mass to go home and find gifts from Christkind, sitting pretty and perfect and begging to be opened.

She was an adult now, and although there were some things about the holiday that wasn't quite as magical as it had been when she was a child, she quickly realized the best part about being a mother: creating that magic for her own child.

The first Christmas Augustus could comprehend why there was suddenly all these gifts for him from an angel after sitting through church always stuck with her. He had squealed with delight and could hardly wait to tug on the glistening golden bows and pull apart the wrapping paper. He spent hours playing with his new toys until hours later, when she found him passed out on the rug in front of the fireplace, in the middle of his Lincoln Logs creation, snuggling his new teddy bear.

That had been nearly thirteen winters ago, and still, Elsie was trying to outdo the Christmases that had come before. Starting, of course, with reminding him on the 6th of December, to leave one of his shoes out for Saint Nikolaus.

It took him a moment to respond but he said, "Of course."

She tried, of course, to keep the anticipation building over the weeks. They built gingerbread houses and decked their halls and their dachshunds got new festive sweaters. However, this time of year had always been the busiest for the butcher shop. Hams were ordered by the dozen and it took long hours to keep up with the demand. This year, for some reason, felt even crazier than the rest and she might have forgotten a few things.

Although it was Christmas Eve and the shop was closed and it as supposed a relaxing day, there was a moment of panic when she realized that she didn't have all of Augustus' presents wrapped. Her revelation about the unpreparedness of "Christkindl" this year came right in the middle of the candlelight Mass, so it wasn't like she could go home and finish.

When they arrived home, she said, with dismay at the tree lacking presents underneath it, "It looks like Christkind hasn't been here yet!"

Augustus replied as he took off his coat, "I'm sure he'll be by soon, Mama."

She waited for Augustus to get into his pajamas and plant himself in front of the television before she frantically went upstairs, shutting the door, and unearthed the Christmas gifts from underneath her bed. She had to work quick on the five or so gifts she had yet to wrap. Her bed turned into her workshop, spread out with the traditional Christkind wrapping paper - a silver and gold star-print that she had bought in bulk when Augustus was only three of four to distinguish between her presents and the presents sent by the Christmas figurehead.

Augustus' voice came from the doorway. Elsie tensed up. She was almost ready to throw a blanket or something over the gifts in case he so happened to open the door.

"Mama, I have a question. You're recording Midnight Mass and this baking special at the same time, but A Christmas Carol is coming on around that time. Can I delete the baking special from the DVR schedule?"

"Umm….that would be good, liebchen." She answered with care. A quick sigh of relief, waiting until she heard his footsteps down the stairs, back into the living room where he belonged.

Instead, Klaus the dachshund had pushed his way through the slightly-ajar door. But in the door frame, stood Augustus.

And he saw the gifts and golden wrapping paper.

He looked at her. She looked at him. Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain.

He looked down at the pile of still-to-be-wrapped presents.

He gasped, the same delight he had that first Christmas. "Did you really get me that new set of Cuisinart pans?"

She looked at the large box sitting to her left, the enormous box of Cuisinart cookware. It was useless to try and convince Augustus otherwise, saying as she fussed with the wrapping papers and the sisters, "Christkind left your presents unwrapped in my bedroom this year. How odd...!"

"You're not a very good liar, Mama," Augustus said with a chuckle.

And when Elsie looked up from the Cuisinart set and the new Moleskine journal and the new backpack, she could no longer see the almost-3-year-old boy who just had his fantastical childhood ideals shattered. She just saw an almost-man who was smirking at something silly his mother had been keeping up for years.

The fact that her son was no longer the wide-eyed, Cherubic baby from Christmas past and Christmas present had him shaving regularly and towering over her scared der Teufel out of her.

"I guess I'm not," she sighed again.

Augustus's smile softened as he asked, "Would Christkindl like to join me in watching A Christmas Carol? I was going to make hot chocolate too."

Elsie's smile was of defeat, but how could she say no? "Christkindl would like that very much but requests you refrain from calling her Christkindl anymore."

"Yes, Mama."

And so the Gloops snuggled on the couch, tucked into afghans, the dogs at their feet, homemade hot chocolate in hand and an old favorite flashing across the darkened living room. The movie is loud and rambunctious, but eventually, Augustus passed out across her knee.

When she realized her son was asleep, Elsie turned down the sounds of Scrooge's journey to find joy in the holiday season. As she brushed his hair aside, she reflected on how their conversation, her revelation of how grown-up he was, could have easily taken her to Ebenezer's level. But as the church bells of St. Peter and Paul rung, proclaiming the end of midnight Mass, she didn't feel as saddened as she thought she would be.

This Christmas was still just as special.