It was 4 am when I was pulled from sleep by a vestigial feeling of responsibility. In the dark and the cold were shadow shapes bobbing their heads to silent music. I knew these guys. They only hear unspoken things. They knew me too, and turned their heads toward me, still bobbing. I strained to hear what they weren't listening to, but I was too awake now. They drifted silently, in single file, out of the bedroom and down the hall. Still bobbing.

I cocooned myself in blankets and fell back asleep.

* * * *

The family has a relatively new tradition of getting pictures with Santa. I've not been a part of this tradition. This time, I went. It was fine. I was wary of becoming overly-emotional and making things awkward, but my family was just entertaining/annoying enough that I couldn't dwell on it. Also, I was carrying my niece, Noel, and she's only a year old so she doesn't give a baby poop about my personal temporal narrative. She was just trying to grab everything she could in Santa's workshop. It's a good instinct; I'm sure we'll get along great.