Page 51 of Jam and Jingle Bells
“Into tiny little pieces and sadness is the only thing we feel.”
She nodded, her head tilted to the side. “Sometimes it really hurts here,” she said, holding her fist to her chest.
“Do you know what that hurt is?” She shook her head and he winked. “That’s sadness.”
“Then I still don’t like sadness.”
“No one does, Holly, but you have to think of sadness kind of like little butterflies.”
“Butterflies?” I swear you could hear her thoughts by looking at her face. She thought Santa had lost his mind.
But Santa just nodded once. “Butterflies, or birds, elves, little doctors with needle and thread, however you want to think of it, but what sadness is doing is stitching all the pieces of your heart back together.”
“Really? Like with thread?”
“Butterflies don’t need thread. The butterflies just flit in and out between the pieces and bring them back together. The doctors, they’d use thread because that’s what they do. Elves, well, they’d use magic nails and their teeny tiny hammers. The result is the same though.”
“Your heart is back together again?”
He nodded, every bone in his body dead serious. “Slowly, as sadness works to put your heart back together, even if it takes a long time, you start to feel a little bit better each day. Then one day, maybe when you’re listening to your favorite song or staring up at the big beautiful Christmas tree, your sadness will just fly away and you’ll feel happy again.”
“My sadness will fly away?” she asked skeptically.
He linked his hands together like a butterfly and flew them through the air. “Yep, it just flies away because sadness has finished its job. It made your heart whole again so you could fill it up with happiness.”
“Do you mean once sadness flies away then it won’t come back?” she asked, her hands clasped together again.
He shook his head, patting her hand, which she didn’t seem to mind. “No, sadness might come back a few times here and there to check and make sure it got all the holes sewn up and nothing is leaking through. Like when we have a memory of someone we love, or when we see something that reminds us of them, but eventually, even when that happens, we will stop feeling the sadness and remember how happy that person used to make us feel.”
“Really?”
Santa nodded. “Really. See, the sadness will only come back to check on our hearts a few times. After that, it knows we have enough happy stored up to be okay when those memories remind us of a sad time.”
“Oh,” Holly said, suddenly all of it clicking into place, “you mean the happy will be stronger than the sad and that will make it feel more like disappointment.”
“Now you got it, Holly,” Santa said, holding his hand out for a high five.
She gave him one and dropped her hand, a smile tipping her lips. “Do you think my sadness will fly away soon?”
Santa was back to lounging on the steps again. He touched her nose with gentle caring. “I think your sadness will fly away as soon as your heart is healed. Not a second before or a second after, little Holly. We can’t rush these things because hearts are really important. Without them, we can’t keep loving the people we love.”
She tapped her chin. “That’s kind of true.”
“It’s totally true, so you see, being sad isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as long as you don’t get lost in the sadness. Remember to smile at least twice every day. Remember to laugh once a day. Remember that you won’t feel this way forever because as soon as that heart of yours is all stitched, hammered, or flitted back together …” he linked his hands again and she followed suit, both flying them off into the sky.
“Happiness,” she whispered.
“Happiness,” he agreed.
“Thank you, Santa,” she said. “That helped me, a lot. I guess youcando more than bring dolls and trains.”
Santa winked at her and she put her arms around his neck for barely the blink of an eye. He patted her back and sat up, picking up his mug. “I suppose I better be on my way back to the North Pole. Mrs. Claus is going to wonder where I am. Don’t forget to hang that jingle bell on your tree now, Miss Holly,” he said, pointing at her hand, which still held the bell.
She stood slowly from the step. “I won’t, Santa.”
“Good girl. Sometimes, jingle bells from Santa hold all kinds of magic you don’t expect. Remember, smile twice a day–”
“And laugh once,” she repeated solemnly.
