A Summer Christmas by Berengaria Brown
It was very hot. Probably 100 degrees and not even 8 a.m. yet.
All up and down the street by the beach, the kids were playing with their new toys, watching and waiting for the fire truck. The fire truck that would bring Santa, and more wonderful gifts.
They wobbled up and down the street on their new bikes, their new inline skates, their new scooters, many watched by doting Dads who sat in lawn chairs, an ice-cold beer in their hand.
As soon as the fire truck’s siren sounded the men grabbed their kids off the road, and women and teenagers came out from the beach holiday cottages, the teens with new computer games in their hands, or music throbbing their ear buds. The women with babies or toddlers on their hips, or hastily wiping cooking ingredients from their hands.
The fire truck turned into the street, its siren screaming, but traveling at walking pace. On the back of the truck was Santa, his face sweating in his hot red suit, throwing candy and a gift to every child. Two firemen, in uniform, walked behind the truck handing out little packets of candy and presents to the mothers of small children.
No child was overlooked. Every one had a special nod or smile from The Man himself.
And the joy in their eyes was more than adequate repayment for giving up a holiday to swelter in a hot costume, instead of sitting on the beach and hoping for a cooling breeze off the ocean.
It was such a different sight and experience from snow, and a hot fire, and kids with new toboggans or indoor games. But the Christmas spirit was identical. Peace on earth, and good will to all people everywhere.
Happy Holidays everyone
Berengaria
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