He was panting. With time, the élan had diminished, but still he tried his best to hold a cheerful demeanour.
Age has made geometric patterns on his chubby face, the fine lines getting deeper with every smile. And, tonight, he had to smile a lot, he was preparing himself for that. Blitzen was getting impatient, showing his impatience by crushing some snow with his hooves. Exuberant balls of snow, like confetti, spread over him. Then soaking the warmth they melted and, vanished.
The roly-poly old man surreptitiously wiped out a drop of tear. Taking out a handful of chocolates and toys from his sack, he spread them lovingly on the ice.
Dancer swiveled in astonishment. It was getting late.
With a heavy sigh, the old man said, “these are for those angels who are not there anymore to receive gifts”.
He then jumped up on his sleigh, tucking the red cap under his arm. It was getting late.
Every year, on this particular day, the hectic travel sapped him of all energy. Still, the sleeping cherubic faces lit up his heart as he filled the tiny hearts with happiness and joy.
He received much more than he gave, every time, every year.