My Favorite Reindeers
Rifle Travel Blog› entry 4 of 9 › view all entries
â€śGuess who my favorite two reindeers are?â€ť my girl asks from the darkness of her twin bed. Itâ€™s Friday, the second since Iâ€™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 sheâ€™s not wise to my faded memory. My hands are combing through her sleep-matted tresses.
â€śConnor?â€ť I continue. â€śVixon? Cupid?â€ť
â€śNope, nope, and nope.â€ť ( Iâ€™ve been trained that she subtly enjoys my failures to read her mind, but I naturally play along every time).
â€śThatâ€™s one of the them, there are two.â€ť
â€śNope and nope.â€ť
â€śDancer!â€ť I exclaim, knowing itâ€™s a bulls-eye intrinsically. She acknowledges my success and then says,
â€śWhoâ€™s your favorites?â€ť My whole life I donâ€™t think Iâ€™ve ever been asked this question.
â€śHm. I donâ€™t like Rudolph very much,â€ť I test.
â€śMe either,â€ť she offers with no explanation as to why. â€śDo you like Blitzen?â€ť
â€śYeah,â€ť I reply (no reason). â€śAnd Comet.â€ť
Iâ€™m reminded of this special instance in my life as Iâ€™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 itâ€™s the cream in my coffee Iâ€™m focusing on, and Iâ€™m thankful to still be noticing.