The Conversation

Two O’clock in the morning is, of course, a time when all good little boys and girls should be fast asleep in their beds. A time when bright dreams of unicorns and hopscotch and chocolate drops welcome them and keep them warm throughout brisk winter’s nights. Robin was a good little girl…most of the time…but this night was not one for dreaming in bed. Christmas Eve was a night for dreams come true…for magic and love to be expressed in beautifully decorated trees and brightly dressed boxes.

Unable to sleep, Robin crept from her room when her home was at its most still…when the rumbling, majestic snore of her father and the softer sighing breaths of her mother let her know that her parents were themselves sound asleep. Robin…with the undeniable curiosity her six years on Earth made her birthright…crept down the hall, the padded feet of her flannel pajamas making almost no noise on the thick carpeting, to sneak a peak at Christmas.

As she neared the top of the stairway, she was startled to see someone sitting on the stairs near the bottom of the landing. His hair was white and thick as fresh cotton as was his full beard. His robe was lush, a deep scarlet. He never looked back. “I know you’re there,” he said in a rich, melodic baritone that both startled and comforted Robin, “you might as well come on down.”

Defeated, Robin abandoned her brief notion of making a run back to her bed to pretend she had never been out of it at all. She took a deep breath and then she walked slowly down the stairs and sat next to the stout old man. “Hey, Papa,” she said softly, glad to be in his company even if it meant her late night excursion had been found out.

“Hey, baby girl,” her grandfather replied, looking down at her with the magic twinkle in his eye that Robin loved so much. “Kinda late for you be roaming around, isn’t it?”

Robin rolled her eyes a little and then nodded. “Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly, “but I just wanted to see the tree before morning came.”

Robin’s grandfather smiled softly and nodded in return. “Yeah,” he said after a brief silence, “me too.”

Robin rested her head against her grandfather’s strong arm. He always understood what she meant and that was something that made her love him more than anyone in the world except her parents.

Silently, grandfather and granddaughter looked up at the tree in the corner of the living room. Robin’s parents had a tradition of trimming the tree…with festive ornaments and little teddy bears and softly sparkling lights…on Christmas Eve after Robin had been put to bed. In the morning they made a big fuss about Santa Claus having brought Christmas while they all slept. Robin knew better, of course, that curiosity of hers having long since located the “hidden” gifts in her mother’s workshop, but she played along because it seemed to be so important to her parents.

Santa had indeed made his rounds again as the tree was dazzling…with dancing lights and teddy bear ornaments upon it and a bright bounty of beautifully wrapped boxes underneath it. Robin smiled and nestled closer to her grandfather who put his arm around her and held her safe.

“When did you get here, Papa?” Robin asked, remembering that the old man hadn’t been there when she was tucked into bed.

“Just a little while ago,” he replied. “Can’t stay long but there was no way I was gonna miss sharing some Christmas with my princess.”

Robin blushed slightly and sighed contentedly. Nobody called her princess except her Papa and despite the fact that she pretended that it was annoying baby stuff she loved it. “I love you, Papa,” she said not feeling the least bit self-conscious.

The old man bent down and kissed the little girl’s forehead. “I love you too, baby girl,” he said, just a bit wistfully. “Always have and always will.”

Nothing more needing to be said, the two watched the lights on the tree dance and twinkle. In the arms of her grandfather, sleep took Robin and she dreamed of unicorns and reindeer…of hopscotch…of sweet chocolate drops and silly teddy bear ornaments.

Suddenly awoken from a deep sleep, Robin’s mother was startled to hear what sounded like muffled voices coming from downstairs. The sound, however, didn’t seem threatening and she didn’t bother to wake her husband. Slipping out of bed and out of the room, Robin’s mother crept down the hall and to the top of the stairs. She was surprised…but only just…to see Robin sleeping peacefully near the bottom of the stairs in sight of the Christmas tree.

Robin’s mother smiled and shook her head. She went down the stairs and lifted her daughter into her arms.

Robin stirred and looked up. “Oh, hi Mommy,” she said sleepily.

“Hi baby,” Robin’s mother replied. “What are you doing down here?” she asked although she already knew the answer, of course.

“Looking at the tree,” the little girl replied in heavy voice, her eyelids barely open.

Robin’s mother nodded knowingly. “Who were you talking to?” she asked, remembering that she had heard voices.

“Papa,” Robin said with a yawn as she rested her arms around her mother’s neck and laid her head against her mother’s shoulder and surrendered to sleep once more.

Robin’s mother looked startled for a moment. She looked up at the mantle in the living room. She looked at the photo of the stout old man with twinkling eyes. She looked over at the urn, golden and gleaming on the mantle in the dim moonlight coming through the window; .the urn that held her father’s mortal remains. She looked at her precious child sleeping contentedly in her arms on the gentle Christmas morning and she smiled.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” Robin’s mother said looking upwards with a bittersweet tear tracing down her cheek. And then she turned and carried Robin back up the stairs to her room and tucked the little girl back into her bed.

(c)2003, 2004 Neverending Rainbow Enterprises, ltd. All rights reserved.