I'm just a normal guy—you might see me getting ordinary mail, or buying those typical groceries, or thrusting my average frame through the swarms of people headed toward the regular day of dreary, but customary, paperwork.  Perfectly normal.  My Christmas that year, however, was not.

It was winter, three weeks after Thanksgiving, still one more week 'til Christmas.  I sat in a red suit upon my holiday throne—the department store Santa, I'm sure you've seen us.  I've never really been sure why I got this job, seeing as I'm really not built for it.  I don't have the belly, or the beard, or even the right hair color.  But somehow I ended up doing it, and I've been doing it for some years now and it's really quite pleasurable.  The kids will come sit on my lap, and despite its diminished size(from the fat suit the store manager always thrusts at me—"You've got to give the customer exactly what they want and expect!") they still manage to fit.  The flash goes off, temporarily blinding us all, and then I ask the children what they want for Christmas, which they whisper in my ear while the pictures get printed off.  I don't know how he managed to pull it off, but Santa certainly gets quite a bit of respect from these kids.  Anyway, back to my story...

After I was released from the pile of six kids—why in the world would anyone want that many?!—a little girl approached me.  She wore a pink and white sort of plaid dress, with puffy sleeves and white frills and two little pockets on the front of the skirt.  It ended just at her knees, where I could see her pink tights were gray and scuffed, probably from falling or crawling around on the floor as many small children feel the need to do, especially when they're dressed nicely.  Her dirty blond hair was slightly curly, and as she pushed an unruly section of it behind her ear, she shyly looked up into my face.  "Are you really Santa?" she asked, in a timid but extremely curious way.  "I'm as real as the bows on your pockets," I replied, not wanting to lie outright—I had said I was real, not that I was really Santa—but not wanting to disappoint her.  Glancing down at her dress, she fingered the ribbons in question.  "All right.  ...Can I sit on your lap?"  That was what she was here for, wasn't it?  To sit on my lap for a photo?  But she was certainly better mannered than the other children.  "Why, certainly!"  She clambered up and took a precarious perch upon my knee.  The flash went off.  Regaining my sight, I turned my face to her once more.  "And what would you like for Christmas, little miss?"  Emotions suddenly flitted across her face, more than I had realized one her age might feel—first indecision, then sadness, then several others that were so fleeting I couldn't recognize, and finally settling on her original, timid look.  They confused me, but I ignored them for the time being and tried again.  "A doll, perhaps?"  She shook her head,  "A new storybook?"  Another shake of the head.  "A pretty dress?"  Again her hair bounced as her head swung from side to side.  Then, before I could come up with another plausible gift, she sat up as tall as she could get and leaned toward my head.  I bent over a bit to help her reach and she whispered in my ear, "What I want for Christmas...," she hesitated slightly, before continuing, "What I want for Christmas...is Momma."  And then she was sliding off my lap and hurrying away into the mall.  That was when I noticed there had been no adult with her, no one to pay for the pictures, or even pick them up.  However, I couldn't do anything about it because the next two kids were on my lap and I was blinded once again.  By the time my vision cleared, she could no longer be seen.

During my lunch break, I asked my co-workers if they saw where the little girl went.  Of course, with so many little girls getting their pictures taken, no one had noticed that one girl in particular.  I ate my sandwich and returned to my chair.

The following day, I saw her again.  She was standing by the water fountain, staring almost longingly at the people in line for pictures.  Her eyes would wander up and down the congregation, but they always returned to one place.  I couldn't see who or what she kept looking at until much later—it was a small family, a mother, a father, and one young girl.  The girl's parents were holding her hands.  By the time my break came around again, the mysterious and apparently parentless girl had left.  This happened again the next day, except she was still hanging around when my lunch break started, so I walked over to her (still in my Santa outfit) and, bending down to her height asked, "Are you hungry?"  She nodded slowly.  "Well then, would you like something to eat?"  She nodded again.  "Hmm...how about we go to the food court and you can show me what you like."  She smiled, a small, quiet smile, and I took her hand and led her to the food court.  She chose a little stall in the corner selling Chinese food, and I purchased two meals for us.  I figured any leftovers would go to my dinner tonight.  When I set a plate in front of her, her eyes lit up, but she didn't pick up her fork.  "You can eat it.  That's all for you," I answered the question in her eyes.  She ate ravenously, as though she hadn't eaten for days.  When she finished, nothing was left on her plate but her plastic utensils.  "Where are your parents?"  I finally asked.

"...Not here."

"But where are they?"

She considered my query before pointing to the ceiling and responding, "Up there."

"Oh."  I had guessed that something like that had happened, but now it was confirmed.

"...Well, my dad is up there.  I don't know where Momma is.  She went somewhere far away and she hasn't come back."

"Where did she go?"

"Over the ocean."

"Why?"

"She said she had to do it because...because the country needed her, I think is what she said."

"Was she in the army?"

"Yes.  She was very good.  She got a lot of medals that she kept in a special box.  She would show the box to me and I would pick one out and she would tell me how she got it and then, as long as I was really careful not to lose it, she'd pin it to my shirt and let me wear it."

"She sounds like a wonderful mother."

"But I don't know where she is.  She left so long ago and she said she would come back.  She promised me.  But she didn't come back.  She broke her promise and she didn't come back.  That's why I told you I want Momma for Christmas.  Will you find her and bring her to me, please?"

"I'll try my best."

"Thank you, Santa."

She had brightened up considerably while talking of her mother, but returned to her quiet demeanor as I changed the subject.  "I have a friend who would like to take care of you for a little bit.  Would that be okay?"

"What's your friend like?"

"He's kind and friendly, I think you would like him.  You can meet him this evening after the pictures are done."

"Okay."

Having taken down our equipment, I changed out of my costume and left it with my boss.  I returned to where the little girl was waiting for me.

"Are you Santa's friend?" she asked me.

Bending down to her height, I replied, "Yes.  Are you the little girl who needs a home?"  I had to pretend I was a completely different person, you see, and that I had no idea who she was.  Receiving a nod, I went on, "What's your name?  I can't just call you little girl."

"Well, my full name is Linnaea, but Momma called me Leia."

"And what should I call you?"

She hesitated, then responded, "Leia."

"All right, Leia, shall we go home?"  I proffered my hand to her.  She took it, nodding, and I led her out of the mall.

Now only four days were left until Christmas.  I called my boss and tried to explain about Leia.  He said he'd find someone to fill in for me for the rest of the week, but I had to be there today since there wasn't enough time to get someone else on such short notice.  He agreed to look after Leia while I worked and I thanked him and hung up.  True to his word, better than it, perhaps, a person showed up by my break to take my place and I returned to my apartment with Leia.  After a few minute's research on my laptop, we bundled up, Leia looking ridiculous yet adorable in my old coat, and drove to a nearby park.  It was beautiful in the cold winter afternoon.  A slight dusting of frost covered everything, giving off the impression that God had sprinkled the whole thing with powdered sugar.  We walked around for a short while and then discovered a swing set hidden in a small grove of trees.  I pushed Leia higher and higher as she swung back and forth, touching tree branches with her toes.  When the cold finally reached us, we made our way back to the car and drove home as a crescent moon rose into a steadily darkening sky.

In the morning, I called my boss who reassured me that my post was covered and I really didn't need to be there, everything was going smoothly.  Rummaging around in my small kitchen for something to eat, I came across a small container of blueberries in the back of my fridge.  Purchased only a few days prior, I had forgotten about them when Leia showed up, but they were still fine so I pulled them out.  On the spur of the moment, I decided to make pancakes and looked up a recipe online (I never was much of a cook, so I don't have any real cookbooks).  Luckily, I did have all the necessary ingredients and shortly after, I had pancakes, too.  With their smell wafting behind me, I made my way to my bedroom where Leia was still sleeping (I slept on the couch since mine was the only bed in the apartment).

I called to her softly as I approached the bed.  "Lei-a.  Leia, I've made pancakes for breakfast.  There are blueberries to go with them and they smell—"  My words suddenly seemed tangible things that lodged in my throat and denied access to my lungs.  Then something was pushing at the barrier, and it came away forcefully, the sound wrenched from between my lips.  "LEIA!"  I leapt the last few feet to the bed, wide eyes fervently searching her pale, still form for any signs of life.  Her slender form shook slightly as a sudden, diminutive breath was forced into her lungs, held for the shortest moment, and released.  Relief washed over me, my eyes threatened to spill their salty contents, and then I was running, running away from the bed, away from Leia, bounding toward the phone, snatching it from its cradle, fumbling with the buttons as my shaking fingers refused to follow my brain's commands.  Finally, phone clutched to my ear, back in the bedroom, I breathlessly gasped to the 911 operator I needed an ambulance.  I don't know what she asked me, I don't know what I told her, I don't know how long it was, but it seemed an eternity and then there were people rushing through my door, carefully lifting, placing, transporting Leia to the ambulance, and all I could do was stand there and desperately clasp the phone, and all I could feel was helplessness because she could be dying and there wasn't anything I could do to keep her in this world.

The ambulance fairly flew to the hospital.  I rushed inside with the paramedics, following them to a room where a nurse met us and told us a doctor would be with us shortly.

Leia had stage four lung cancer.  It had gone unnoticed for several years, the doctor said.  Then, quite suddenly and inexplicably, the rate at which it was spreading leaped skyward.  It had reached her brain stem that night, inducing a coma.  She was under for three days, with no signs of improvement.  The fourth day was Christmas.  Although the moment is far behind me now, I remember it as though it happened but minutes ago.

I was sitting by her bed, eyes bloodshot from both tears and lack of sleep.  I grasped her hand in mine, gently, willing her to come back to me, willing her to survive this ordeal.  I fell asleep like that, my head falling forward, cradled by her sheets, our hands still touching.  She came to me then, in my sleep.  She was quiet, and melancholy, and yet she seemed happy at the same time.  She said to me, "I found her.  I found Momma.  But I can't get to her.  I try, and try, but she doesn't come any closer.  I just want to go to her.  She says Daddy is there too and I want to see him.  I don't really remember him, but Momma says he's really nice and he wants to see me, too."  And then she was gone and I was awake and she wasn't gone, she was right in front of me, in the hospital bed, but she wasn't really there, was she?  She was still in a coma, still half way between life and death.  I understood, then, what she wanted.  It filled me with a terrible sadness and my cheeks simply refused to stay dry.  Slowly, I reached with one trembling hand over to the machines that kept her here, and slowly, deliberately, my hand switched them off.

-Epilogue-

As the machines powered down around me, Leia took one last, shuddering, breath.  When she breathed out, her body seemed to relax somehow, as if it had been tensed and tight ever since the coma began.  But right before it relaxed completely, her dry lips parted to let the air pass, and I could have sworn I heard her whisper, "Thank you, Santa."

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A/N: Originally written December 2013