Twenty Years Ago, I Played Santa for a Little Girl – This Christmas, She Came Back for Me

And then, just like that, he was gone too.

No one came for Christmas that year.

I stopped answering texts. I forced down toast on some days, so I had energy to cry. I’d turn the water on in the shower so the neighbors wouldn’t hear me sob.

But grief doesn’t care how long you cry.

It just settles in your bones and waits.

It was a few days before Christmas when I realized I hadn’t left the house in over a week.

I had no tea, milk, or bread. I didn’t even want to eat. I just needed something warm to hold.

So I bundled up and walked to the corner store.

Christmas music played too loudly.

The aisles were packed with people carrying trays of cookies, wine, and wrapping paper. Everyone seemed to glow with holiday cheer.

I stood in line with a cheap box of tea, staring at the floor, trying not to cry in public.

Then I heard a little girl’s voice. “Mommy, do you think Santa will bring me a doll this year?

The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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