My grandpa was Santa Claus

This is a short story for a completion. Took a twist on it, for fun. :)

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1. Grandpa

I remember my grandpa fondly.

 

 He had a white beard that flowed from his face. When  he smiled his mustache would curl on the sides. His eyes always sparkled. They were a dark blue, people said it was grey, but I knew the truth. They were a blue as crisp as a nutcracker’s pants, or a snowflakes first falling on crisp blue day. Those were his eyes. Sometimes they were heavy with stress, other times he was just tired and needed to rest. But when they were open, that is what color they were. 

 

He was a plump older man. He wasn’t skinny like the men you see today. Those who count calories and and exercises. Sure the young men eat all they can. But the older ones now days eat salads and water. My grandpa ate cookies and fudge. He drank hot chocolate all the time, and stirred it with a candy cane. But he had the biggest heart. He worked for everyone all the time everyday. Yet, he always had a jolly step, a happy smile, and the twinkle in his eye. 

 

He wore a red pants, the largest in the kind. His boots were black as coal. They matched his gloves. They stretched over his large caring, warm hands. He wore this large red coat, with white fur around the wrists. It was as bright as a Noel ornaments, redder than Rudolph’s nose. His buttons were glittery gold, like garland. He buckled his belt around himself. In the middle was a copper clasp. The white fur glisten on the sun on a snow white morning. The best was his hat. It was rimmed with the same white fur. Then it came to a point, a red triangle. It flopped over and a little ball of fur on the end. 

 

My grandpa always smiled, always chuckled, and always loved. You see, my grandpa he wasn’t just my grandpa. He was something special.

He was Santa Claus.

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