It wasn't just cold outside. It was so frigid that Heather's nose hairs stuck together when she inhaled. She had seen plenty of cold days like this before, but she always avoided going outside on those days. It was much nicer curled up under a blanket on the living room sofa with a steaming cup of spiced tea. With a little milk, ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon, it was the next best thing to sheer bliss. Alas, that would have to wait. She had to finish shoveling snow from her driveway first. Four inches fell last night and it was her duty to clean it up. Daddy used to do it, but he couldn't anymore. Not since his heart attack. He was okay now, thankfully, but he still became fatigued easily. He was sensitive to the cold, now, too. So as much as she hated to shovel snow, and as much as she hated the cold, it was a worthwhile trade-off. Daddy getting sick or keeling over dead would ruin Christmas tomorrow. Not that there was much going on to ruin. Heather's family wasn't as tightly knit as the families in the old Christmas movies. Most of her relatives just spent Christmas at home. When she was younger, everyone would go to grandma's house for a big Christmas dinner. Presents would be piled up under and around the tree. The scent of pine needles and Scotch tape filled the air. Peppermint from the kitchen, oven-baked ham, and every kind of Christmas cookie imaginable made for strong memories that lingered with Heather still. But grandpa died a few years back and grandma just didn't have the energy to host those huge elaborate get-togethers anymore. Now everyone just did their own thing in their small nuclear families and that was that. In this particular household, everything seemed to revolve around Heather's older sister Kate's boy and girl. Trenton was five now and Emily was three. Old enough to be enchanted by the hubbub and magic that was so ingrained in the Christmas season. Heather couldn't really remember what it was like to be so enthralled. She never understood why all her friends seemed to get what they wanted for Christmas while she never did. It made her feel guilty. Had she not been a good enough girl? She was mild-mannered, not really prone to tantrums, and she didn't like the clutter of a dirty bedroom floor. She helped mama vacuum and clean dishes a lot. Because she wanted to be helpful. And because she wanted to be praised. Was that selfishness the reason why Santa always seemed to give presents to her as an afterthought? For a few years, she even resented Santa. It felt as if he discriminated based on economic status. How 'naughty' or 'nice' a kid was had less bearing on his choices than how much money mommy and daddy made. Maybe this sort of thing helped spur her into becoming a rebel when she grew older and learned who Santa REALLY was. The enchantment faded away, and with it that sense of innocence--the idealism that good things came to good people. Daddy was a good person, but he had a heart attack. Mama was a good person, but she was laid off from her job. Kate was a good person, but Trenton was born with Asperger's Syndrome. The lesson in life was clear. It didn't matter if you were a GOOD person or not. Life's heartless randomness picked on everyone whether they deserved a lump of coal or not. Heather tossed the last shovel full of snow onto the yard and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her winter coat. She set the shovel tip-down onto the driveway and leaned against the handle to catch her breath and gather her bearings. It was eerily quiet outside. She could hear cars and snow blowers running off in the distance, but all around her on her tiny suburban street was ominous silence. Well, except for the familiar scraping sound of a snow shovel emanating from across the road in Anna's driveway. Heather had no idea how old Anna was, but she had been a white-haired old lady for as long as Heather could remember. Anna's husband died before Heather was even born. Anna had lived alone ever since. Smiling despite the cold, Heather strode across the road with her shovel in hand. In the back of her mind, she could remember the distinct cinnamon-sweet smell of apple butter on warm toast. And cookies. Every kind of cookie known to man. Anna loved to bake, and she loved to share. That trickle of doubt that always stuck with Heather came back to her as she walked, Anna pausing in her shoveling to look curiously up at Heather. It would have been all right to just go back inside and enjoy her hot spiced tea. Anna was hale and hearty. Shoveling snow wasn't that big of a deal for her. She could have spent money on a snow blower instead of relying on an old shovel. If she really wanted help, she could have called and asked for it. Just about everyone on the street knew Anna and would have been happy to help her out. Heather supposed as she smiled at Anna and put shovel to snow that Santa could do a lot of things. But he wasn't perfect. He couldn't stop hunger or end wars. No one person, no matter how magical, could possibly do all that. But everyone had a little bit of Santa inside of them; that need to do their little part toward making the world a better place, even if just one smile at a time. That sort of thing couldn't possibly be gift-wrapped and topped with a shiny bow, but a shiny bow and a warm smile were all the clues anyone ever needed about how to get there. To the place where REAL magic happened. Word count: 992 Inspiration: The holiday season itself is inspiring, but this year especially, I've been the recipient of the 'pay it forward' mentality. Gifts, charity, they're all well and good. But the kindness of casual friends in someone's darkest hours can turn a tragic season into such a wonderful experience. You'll never see this contest entry, but thank you Angie and Wayne for being the sort of people that Santa could never gift-wrap.