“You know Father Yuletide is Mr Bombastic from church?” Mother
asked.
I knew this, but for the sake of Muncho I said, “No Mother, Father
Yuletide is real.” When we got there Muncho would hop on Father
Yuletide’s shoulder and watch keenly as other children lined up to sit
on his lap and collect their gifts. It was always fascinating for him and
humiliating for me, but I’m a kind hearted guy.
Muncho’s Yuletide wish from Father Yuletide was to have a
companion. Muncho asked Father Yuletide every Yuletide to grant him
another carrot friend, or at least root vegetable friend, who he could
chat with whenever he was bored, and I was busy. Playful Muncho
needed a playmate that was like him. Every year came with the
disappointment that Father Yuletide had not granted his wish.
Except for Muncho’s dashed hopes, Yuletide was always filled with
joy and the Yuletide spirit. Yuletide carols were something we looked
forward to at the Sacred Heart Church and I was soon given the award
for the best mezzo-soprano caroller in Western Europe.
One Yuletide Eve, we got back home from the evening service a
few minutes after seven. I couldn’t be sure exactly. because we still
had no clocks in the house, (because of Jordan’s fear of time), and
the clock in the car was late, but my parents never told us how late
(again, because of Jordan’s fear of time). Jordan and I could not wait
to dance around the Yuletide tree, and I kept hollering at my mother.
“Open the door!”
We danced around the tree, our hands in the air, our voices loudly
carolling, our spirits soaring, having the time of our lives.
That night, I had a very long conversation with Muncho, and we
talked a long time into the long night. Muncho talked about how lame
the Yuletide songs were, and I countered him. But just when I was
about to give up out of sheer fatigue and concede that carols are
lame, something I do not and never have believed, but I was young
and had a lot to learn about life, just at that moment, I heard a sound. I
turned on the lights. Jordan was asleep in the other bed. I got out of
bed and peered out of my bedroom door. I was not scared because I
knew I was not alone; I was with Muncho. As we walked into the living