from an elf to a witch

I wandered back and forth between the grey plastic “ice” slide and the slot cars, ducking around the red carpet that led to Santa’s home.

I stopped at a collection of picnic tables and began picking up sheets of paper.

A blonde elf picked up crayons. She didn’t need help but I offered anyway.

We set out coloring pages, outlines of the kid from “A Christmas Story,” and a girl sitting on Santa’s lap.

I scowled at sermon notes a man had left on the table.

He’s just a guy, I told myself.

Be nice.

The elf told me she was familiar with the feeling.

“My dad’s really religious, but we hardly ever went to church,” she
told me.

(So you’re going to hell, I thought.)

Now she follows Wiccan teachings.

(Yeah.)

The elf told me about casting spells for good, since energy returns in threes.

She was drawn to the feminist teachings in her faith.

(I’d rather listen to a goddess than a God, myself.)

“I’d love to be a stay-at-home mom and a full-time witch,” she said.

(Yeah. I laughed.)

“I know it doesn’t go with the feminist thing, but it’s what I’ve
always wanted,” she added.

I nodded.

“Well, if that’s what you want,” I said.

(That sort of goes with the feminist thing, too.)

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