Writing on The Dock of The Bay
We were worried. Santa was running late this year. He summers in the houseboat across the channel. We're sure it's him. All bets are off on whether that's Mrs. Claus. She seems younger. November. Shouldn't he be gone? Toys don't just make themselves. Yesterday he sipped tea in the sun in a breezy aloha shirt as a flotilla of awol geese drifted by. He's lost weight, too. Not always a good sign at a certain age. People wonder. Privately, I edited my wish list to guard against Christmas morning letdown. Also, I had a bit of an off year. Last night I heard ringing - was it a dream? Someone's hull alarm? This morning, blinds across the channel were closed- not a creature was stirring. The houseboat looked buttoned up for winter. That was no dream I'd had, no cause for alarm I'd heard- that ringing was swell. Once again, Santa has answered the bell!