Passing of the Reins

My Uncle’s letter told me to meet him at 325 Ambrosia Way, a beautiful three-story mansion on the outskirts of town. Not seeing his car, when I pulled up, I debated getting out or staying in the car to wait for him when I noticed the front door opening. So I got out of the car and walked towards the entrance, not once seeing anyone around the place as I went.

It was a gorgeous summer day. The birds were singing. The flowers in the garden surrounding the house were blooming, and butterflies were flying all around. The day was warm enough for my tank top and shorts, but I wished I’d gone with the cute sandals instead of the tennis shoes and socks I was wearing. My feet started sweating up a mighty storm and would stink tonight when I got home.

When I arrived at the door, no one was there, and the interior was dark, but I heard my Uncle hollar to come on in, so I did, not thinking much about anything. As soon as I stepped across the threshold, the door shut behind me of its own accord. I was spooked at this point and unsure of what I was expected to do next. I looked around; a massive staircase was in the center of the foyer. I walked towards it. There was a note on the railing.

Amintha:

Meet me in the room at the very top of the stairs.

Sincerely,

Uncle Nick.

Shaking my head, I proceeded up the stairs. Walking up three flights of stairs, I thought, would be enough, but the stairs did not end there. There were another twelve flights of stairs I had to climb. When I had made it to the seventh flight, I noticed it was getting colder, and my breath was coming out in little puffs of condensation. By the twelfth flight, everything was starting to look a little frosted.

The last landing, though, was something out of a fairytale. Everything, the railings, pictures, furniture, and rug, was covered entirely with the whitest snow I had ever seen. A snowman stood towards the farther wall, and an igloo was positioned to the left of the stairs. By the snowman was an archway. I walked towards the arch and walked through. On the other side was a fairytale village, with elves running around on some errand. My Uncle Nick stood waiting for me, dressed in a red velvet pantsuit.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Amintha! Welcome to the North Pole!” Her Uncle greeted me.

Once I got over the shock that my Uncle Nick was Saint Nick, he explained that it was time for him to retire. Therefore, it was time for him to pass on the reins to the reindeer and allow another family member to become Santa Claus. Since the beginning, this was a position passed down to particular family members. When I voiced my doubt because I was female, he smoothed over that with a comment about how I think Mrs Claus came to be.

I just stared at him in amazement as he showed me to the toy factory, reindeer barn, and the Cocoa Bar. The entire North Pole was a village on top of a staircase in a house in my hometown. It was magical. It was spectacular.

I asked him why he chose me out of all my cousins. He told me it was because I still saw the magic of Christmas and that, deep down, I still believed.

“Do you accept the reins, Amintha?” He solemnly asked me.

I thought momentarily, then replied, “You know how I feel about red.”

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Wear whatever color you want. The magic will still be there,” He laughed.

I thought some more. But really, what was there to think about?

My name is Amintha Claus, and you can call me Santa.