Santa Therapy

Santa Therapy
The truth is his look alone made me feel better about my situation. The resemblance he bore to Santa Clause was nothing short of uncanny; certainly the image of Santa I had in my head; broad shoulders, tall and chubby with the long, full flowing, white hair and beard.
He thought my smile was a greeting. It wasn’t. I was grinning at his unwillingness to separate himself from that image. In fact my grin was because he took it in the opposite direction, accessorizing with the ad hoc, octagonal glasses, accompanying red suspenders, a green bowtie and matching sweater. It became instantly clear to me that he loved the connection. And because of that I felt I knew as much about him as my file told him me…which made me grin.
“C’mon in Anthony; they sent your file already, and I’ve reviewed it so I know why you’re here” he said. “Although we don’t say anger management any longer, we say hope guidance…I just want you to know you’re in good hands…and I’m gonna help you, but before I can, he went on, you’ve got to promise me one thing. You’ve got to commit to always speak the truth in here; can you promise me you’ll do that?”
And the reason I had to go to therapy…stepped forward.
“Let me get this straight” I thought. “You get up every morning and make sure you dress in some combination of red and green. I can see by the pictures you have eight cute little dogs and I’m sure I already know their names. You haven’t seen your feet or boots on purpose in a decade, hoping you actually shake like a bowl full of jelly when you laugh, and you’re wearing a sweater…even though it’s August. I’ve got your business card, it says Richard…not Nicholas or Chris or Cringle but I’m willing to bet the bell I rang to get into this building was probably some version of ‘Here comes Santa Clause.’ Oh and let me guess; the huge jar of cookies on your desk is strictly coincidental RIGHT? You just happen to like cookies RIGHT? But I’m the guy who has to speak the truth?”
A bit annoyed, I took control of the conversation, doing what I thought was the verbal equivalent of dazzling him with something shiny.
“Listen Dick” I said, “we can talk if you want but I’m probably gonna hafta sit in your lap when we do.”
His look of confusion…was exactly what I wanted for Christmas.
Anthony Wobbe

Author, Anthony J Wobbe 7-15-16


1 Comment

  1. Mike Lancaster

    too funny

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