Santa at the post office? Of course.

‘Twas two weeks before Christmas,

With my children in tow,

Did I stand in the post office with a package to-go.

The kiddos were prancing and dancing about,

Drenched in holiday spirit and too much sugar, no doubt.

And I with my last Christmas package to send,

Was glad to see holiday shipping would end.

When what should meet my wandering stare,

But a postmaster with white whiskers and hair!

He wore spectacles down on the tip of his nose,

And a jolly, round belly filled out his street clothes.

And just to his right, near the rubber stamp ink,

Sat a red and white hat with a pom-pom, I think.

While he worked at the counter with stamps and with tape,

I couldn’t help that my mouth fell agape.

“Hey, Lili, Hey Calvin and Henry, come quick!”

And discreetly, I showed them this clone of St. Nick.

“But why is he here and not at the North Pole?”

“And where are his reindeer?” they wanted to know.

They stared just a bit, then went back to their play,

These kids needed proof, so I started say:

“But it makes perfect sense that he should be here,

To read all those letters you send him each year.”

Just when I’d given up hope they’d believe,

It was our turn to post, and to ship and to leave.

And who should the postmaster helping us be,

But the Big Man himself – I lilted with glee.

A friendlier postman I never had met,

It’s because he’s an elf, I was willing to bet.

I spoke only of shipping the package we’d brought,

Not wanting to put this kind man on the spot.

'Til a photo I glimpsed on the wall gave me pause,

It was the postman himself beside Mrs. Claus!

“Is that you?” I let slip, without even knowing,

My curiosity wouldn’t stop growing.

“Oh yes,” said the man, “And you might think it queer,

To find me down south at this time of the year.”

“I needed a job. It’s expensive, you know,

To feed those nine reindeer up there in the snow.”

My kiddos stopped cold and they looked at his face.

Should they trust this Santa who seemed out of place?

We all said good-bye, and he reminded us then,

“It’s only two weeks till I’ll see you again!”

When we left there that day, we had grins on our faces,

Having just seen St. Nick in the strangest of places.

“This is why I believe!” shouted Calvin with joy.

But my daughter wasn't as sure as the boy.

“Why did his name tag, say ‘Gerry?"” she said.

It didn’t make sense in her smart little head.

A disguise, I responded, so children won’t guess,

And hold up the line with their Christmas requests.

I could see in her eyes that she wanted to feel,

That this story, though crazy, was really quite real.

Much later that night, when the boys were in bed,

It was really so sweet what she finally said:

“Remember when we saw Santa today?”

“Of course I remember” I heard myself say.

“Well that doesn’t happen all of the time.”

“No,” I confirmed.  “It was truly sublime.”

“It’s special,” she said. “And that’s how I know,

That Santa is real!” her face was aglow.

At last she was not the least bit affright,

To take on the magic of Christmas Eve night.

Logic and reason will creep in someday,

But for now fun and fancy are lining the way.

And isn’t it better for the thought to prevail,

That Santa Claus also might handle our mail?

I'm linking up with Bigger Picture blogs today, too. Visit Melissa for more.