Every year for the last few, I have let my snow white hair and beard grow long during November in preparation for passing as Santa during December.
Not only a few people have already referred to me as Santa, friends and strangers alike. In restaurants, in our building, at dinner with friends, on the street.
The other day Gregory and I were waiting for our condo elevator. A neighbor (who we do not know) was waiting outside the elevators and rushed in before us when one finally arrived. He didn't "look" right and I made a quick diagnosis of "developmentally disabled." My observations are usually pretty good based on my studies and years of experience as an educator. He was looking at the floor and was closely squeezed into the back corner of the elevator.
As the doors closed and I commented to the guy, "Those french fries sure do smell good." He was carrying a greasy bag, close to his chest, which probably came from Five Guys just around the corner from our building.
He ignored me. Seeing how withdrawn he was I discontinued my neighborly chat. When we got off, I wished him (as we usually do after brief conversations on the elevator even with people we do not know) "Have a good night!" Still no eye contact. Still no reply.
As the elevator doors closed and Gregory and I were walking away from the elevator lobby on our floor, I heard this kid whisper, "Santa!"
My heart melted.
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