My Favorite Reindeers

Rifle Travel Blog

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“Guess who my favorite two reindeers are?” my girl asks from the darkness of her twin bed. It’s Friday, the second since I’ve been laid off, and her coughs prompted me to sneak into her room. I begin to rattle off some names, mostly phonetic close matches to the real ones, but she’s not wise to my faded memory. My hands are combing through her sleep-matted tresses.





“Connor?” I continue. “Vixon? Cupid?”

“Nope, nope, and nope.” ( I’ve been trained that she subtly enjoys my failures to read her mind, but I naturally play along every time).


“That’s one of the them, there are two.”

“Prancer? Comet?”

“Nope and nope.”

“Dancer!” I exclaim, knowing it’s a bulls-eye intrinsically. She acknowledges my success and then says,

“Who’s your favorites?” My whole life I don’t think I’ve ever been asked this question.

“Hm. I don’t like Rudolph very much,” I test.

“Me either,” she offers with no explanation as to why. “Do you like Blitzen?”

“Yeah,” I reply (no reason). “And Comet.”

I’m reminded of this special instance in my life as I’m on the stepladder in my unheated garage. On the way to school my girl notices her cat left a kibble displeasure all over the sunroof, and the drive to school in ten degree frost has freeze-baked it into a rock-like crust that NASA would be proud to have discovered. A little elbow grease and warm water fix reminding me it’s the cream in my coffee I’m focusing on, and I’m thankful to still be noticing.

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photo by: Bulldog1up