He stood in the entryway at Fred Meyer and caught my eye. I felt a rush of love as I walked by. He seemed familiar to me, like family. Tall. Long hair. About 50. His eyes were clear and deep; there was nothing depressed or downtrodden about him. He wore a red suit while jingling a bell, but I could easily picture him on a Harley. Or bellied up to a bar drinking whiskey responsibly.
I peeked back. He was still watching me, smiling.
I had stopped there on a whim, as I had already bought much of what was on my Christmas list. But my youngest son had expressed a liking of a canvas print awhile ago, and the holiday spirit took over. One more gift wouldn't hurt. I located the item and was carrying the large piece of art to the front when a woman stopped me.
"This is going to sound funny, but I have the exact same print and I'm moving. I can give it to you for free!"
I returned the item and went to the door. On the way out, Santa smiled again like he knew me. He looked a little ornery.
"Where are you parked?" I asked my new friend. She pointed out a white SUV that I noticed when I first pulled in. My car was parked right next to hers! We laughed at the coincidence and visited a bit. Her spirit was sweet. Refreshing. It just felt good being in her company. She gifted a large canvas print of Albert Einstein to me.
I drove away feeling blessed and peaceful. I don't take moments like that for granted anymore. In the dark time of year, we appreciate the sun so much more. This past year has brought me through the darkest days I've ever known. My son went home, yet his light still appears from time to time. I saw him in Santa's eyes.
I used to have concrete beliefs about things. I thought I could plan for and control most outcomes. At the end of last year, I stood with friends in Town Square, swaying to the beat of island-style music performed by a local band, H3. When the countdown began, my chest swelled with fun and I shouted "three, two, one ..." Fireworks lit up the sky. I turned to my husband and proclaimed that 2015 would be the best year ever. Little did I know …
When I got the news that shattered my world, fresh into the new year, a clear thought appeared. With the phone still pressed to my ear, and stomach dropping, I had a knowing: "The only thing that matters now is love." I clung to that understanding during the first few weeks, lost it and have been trying to find it ever since. Here, at year's end, I am reminded of that profound truth once again.
In my car's rearview mirror, I saw the large canvas sitting on the back seat. Einstein's face reflected back to me. I thought of his trademark hair, his distaste for formal education. He was a musician. A genius. He was born on March 14. My son, the longhaired musician, also came to the world that day -- and was buried on that same date 20 years later. "Nothing matters but love." And love is eternal.
I don't know if Santa is real or if angels can really appear. I don't know what 2016 will bring, but I know we can't go wrong with kind acts of giving: smiles, a helping hand, a compassionate ear, prayers, anything given in the spirit of love is good. And sometimes, when we least expect it, we find ourselves in a position to receive. 'Tis the magic of the season.
Chantelle Pence is a writer from the Copper River region who lives part time in Anchorage with her husband and sons. Her first book, "Homestead Girl," will be released in June 2016.
The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary@alaskadispatch.com. Send submissions shorter than 200 words to letters@alaskadispatch.com or click here to submit via any web browser.