The Cross House
Many many years ago I lived in St. Petersburg, Florida.
And one of my most vivid, cherished memories is of Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus.
Every year, about ten days before Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Claus would sit in their respective rocking chairs, atop the roof of their porch, and wave at passing cars.
Every year. For like twenty years. For about an hour-and-a-half every night.
This created a sensation, wholly stopped traffic, and became a holiday tradition.
In time, Mr. and Mrs. Claus (not, perhaps, their real names) died, and the tradition stopped.
But I remember.
A while after buying the Cross House I realized that I, too, now owned a house with a porch roof. And that a tradition from long ago could be conjured again.
So, I say the following with absolute conviction:
After I move into the Cross House, and for every year that I have a breath in me, Mr. and Mrs. Claus will wave at passing cars and passing people from the porch roof.
And during a time when hope is proving difficult, this idea is keeping me buoyant.
I wish everybody good holidays, a warm hug, a sloppy kiss, and, oh, so much love. So much love.