Making My List

“Christmas time is near,” I sang as the old Peanuts movie played in the background. I had turned my old ironing board into my work station as I stood wrapping presents.

Nicholas was sitting on the sofa, hunched over the coffee table writing addresses on envelopes. “I think I want to switch jobs,” he complained. “I left my reading glasses at work.”

“You can use mine,” I offered.

That was a silly suggestion, of course. Nick has nearly perfect distant vision and can buy his readers at the drug store for about twelve bucks. I’m blind as a bat and pay a small fortune every year for readers, computer specs and regular progressives. So far I have managed not to wear any of them on chains around my neck, but the constant changing of glasses to fit the task has me re-thinking how convenient this would be.

I just don’t want to look like a little old lady—even if that’s exactly what I am.

“I think I’ll pass,” Nick replied. “The headache I’ve got now is nothing compared to the one I’d have if I wore your glasses!” He sat up straight and groaned as he massaged this lower back. He looked up at me. “You know, Jess, I know we have always worked from home, but the last couple of years have really worn me out, what with the labor shortage we’ve been dealing with.”

“Well,” I said, “it’s not like we can outsource the work, Nick. This is a private enterprise.”

“Very private,” he agreed. He watched as I wrapped a red ribbon around a box and expertly tied a bow. “Any chance of a little break?”

I sighed and stretched my back, then rolled my shoulders. One popped, an impressive explosion that didn’t sound nearly as bad as it felt.

“Ouch!”

Nick frowned in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Sure. I’m just decrepit and creaky.” I slowly raised and lowered my arms, mimicking a slow flight and wishing I would rise up in the air and float awhile. My feet hurt. “How about some hot chocolate and a couple of cookies?”

“Sold!”

I gave an involuntary shudder when I saw him reach for the list. I was hoping to have it out of my sight for a few minutes so I could enjoy my little treat. But I didn’t dare suggest he leave it behind.

It’s simply not an option to ignore the list.

We sat together at the dining table after I’d made cocoa and topped it with whipped cream. Nick helped himself to a fancily-decorated gingerbread elf and snapped off its hat with his teeth. I smiled indulgently and selected a section of the orange I had peeled.

I love the taste of fresh oranges with chocolate.

The list was spread across the table where we could both see it. Several names had been check-marked and then crossed off as completed, and I resisted the temptation to tear off the finished section. Nick liked an intact list, though, so I busied my hands with eating and drinking, and tried not to think about it.

We weren’t even halfway through it!

“How many are still out?” I asked.

“We’re operating with less than half the staff. The doctor says most of them won’t be back to work until after the big day.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. There’s never any sense in spouting the should-have, could-have, would-have options after the fact. It’s a useless act—you cannot go back in time and change something.

Nick raised a bushy eyebrow and said, “I never should have let them help the substitutes in the cities. No one was taking care of things properly.”

“I didn’t—” I protested.

“I know you didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. I’ve been thinking it all along.”

“We got lucky last year. It made us hopeful,” I offered helplessly.

“Hope is for fools. Science is the answer that too many fools are ignoring.” He bit rather viciously through the elf cookie’s neck, decapitating it effectively.

I flinched. Nick rarely displays any form of displeasure, and this anger was so unlike him. I felt tears prickling the backs of my eyes and blinked hard. “What is it, Nick?”

“I don’t think we can make it in time.”

“We’ll make it.”

Nick set his dismembered cookie on his plate and stared at the table, dejected.

I slapped my palm sharply on the tabletop. Nick started, and stared at me. I could see defeat in his eyes, and it made me more angry than sad. “You stop this right now. We will make it!”

“I want to believe that.”

“We made it through the 1918 epidemic. We made it through the Depression era. I know we had a full staff then, but we also didn’t have some of the wonderful tools we’ve got now. Not everything has to be made by hand…”

“And yet, here we are—behind.”

He didn’t really have to point that out to me. I’m not blind. I’m not delusional. But—“I say we will make it,” I insisted.

Nick stood up. His cookie lay rejected on his plate, and his cocoa had barely been touched. I refused to consider his less-than-chubby appearance. The stress was having its way with him, but I could rectify the diminished belly with a pillow if I had to.

At least he was still eating his meals. He’s probably healthier with a few pounds off, anyway. No one ever stops to consider his cholesterol levels, do they?

“I’m going down to the shop,” he announced. “If I’m to get through this list, I need my reading glasses.”

“Fine,” I agreed. “I’ll bring cookies down to the crew in a few minutes.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Jessica.”

He left the room.

My heart fell when I realized he had also left the list. It sat, deserted, on the table.

I don’t believe I have ever seen him leave the list.

I rose and squared my shoulders. I had plenty of wrapping to do. Nick’s list must be completed.

I have my own list this year. There are plenty of folks who will not be netting so much as a lump of coal. Coal is too good for them, and all they do is waste it.

Masks. They’re getting masks, and a stern message about how they moved to the top of the naughty list this year.

Imagine endangering half our staff and putting them in quarantine at Christmastime! Imagine endangering their neighbors and their own children! They don’t even deserve the masks; but the masks are not really for them. My goal is to protect others from them.

Nick’s list first. The children always come first.

Back to work!

I loaded a basket full of cookies, picked up the list and headed for the workshop.

I was determined that in spite of it all, it would still be the most wonderful time of the year.

Author's Note: Whatever stance you have regarding vaccines and masks, Santa Claus has got his work cut out for him this year. Remember to love and protect your fellow man, or Mrs. Claus may add you to her naughty list. I have a feeling she's a little tougher than Santa. She doesn't want anyone making her man feel hopeless.

Happy Holidays, whichever and however you celebrate!