Welcome to my magic wonderland. Make yourself comfortable and, please, ignore my little elves messing around.
In the hope of eliciting a smile during this challenging time, may I present you the SWAT snow globe. This is a world where Christmas means the finest celebration of families of all shapes and kinds. Here, Christmas time is the perfect occasion to do some good and of course, the ideal excuse to issue friendly competitions. Especially when officer Dominique Luca is in charge of the annual toy drive.
Oh, oh, oh, dear Luca jumped to the top of my nice list. This year he topped himself with the fundraiser and pool of activities, so much so that I'm considering appointing him honorary elf.
Not that each 20-David doesn't deserve a spot on my nice book. And this is why I lent Luca some discreet magical help. No duty calls for the whole day? Not weird at all. And isn't the parking lot bigger inside than out? There is too much to have fun with to worry about that!
What are we waiting for? Come closer to the snow globe. Can you see the SWAT HQ? Come even closer… closer…
' o ' o ' o ' o ' o '
Street is alone in the locker room, numb to the cold of the iron bench beneath him. Not the best start for a celebration day. But who can blame him if the Christmas Spirit hasn't infected him yet? I've always known the holiday season to be a bit on the heavy side for him, though he always tries to cover for it. This year in particular, with the ordeal with his troubled mom still so fresh, profound loneliness and a deep sense of having no direction clad at his heart as they ever did.
Let's give him a hand. #SNAP#
"Here you are." Chris peeks into the room. "All hands on deck, remember? It's already packed with kids out there." She frowns at the bitter atmosphere flooding her. "You haven't changed yet?"
"You're going to win the contest, hands down." Street shrugs, his eyes following Chris's entrance. The gloom still lingers around him, but a smile plays on his lips at how good Chris looks in the fuzzy deep-red sweater emblazoned with chubby penguins in Santa hats—the little critters wear it better than me.
"Of course I am," Chris grins, then shifts to serious again. "But that doesn't mean you're not bound to make an appearance. Since when slim chances to win have stopped you from trying? Come on." She digs Street's ugly Christmas sweater out of his locker. His Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer might actually give her a run for her money and give him the boost he needs to embrace the Spirit.
Street takes the white material woven with brown and red from Chris's outstretched hand and wrinkles it in his grip, finding relief in its coziness. This is when it hits Chris, the reason she'd had the impulse of searching for him in the first place—which had nothing to do with escaping Luca's hysterics.
"My first Christmas after my mom died had been though, too," she says, brushing Street's shoulder with hers as she sits next to him. "I stopped believing in Santa"—ouch—"long before that year, and despite Sarzo and Helena having always outdone themselves to include me in the cheerful atmosphere, that doesn't mean I didn't feel part of the magic of the time dying alongside with my mom. Even despite of how hard the holidays could be around her."
"You're really lucky to have Sarzo, Helena, and all of your cousins." Street's lips curve up, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes
"I know." Chris's heart swells with endearment and compassion. She does know how lucky she is to have the big, tight family she has. More than ever, this year, she's determined to make Street feel that blessing, too.
"I've not really spent Christmas with my mom in over twenty years," Street continues. "Since before, you know… I sent her to prison. I mean even the first time." He shrugs.
"She brought that on herself. Both times." Chris beats her lips. Not the most tactful move to speak ill of the deaths, but I'm with her saying Street needs to understand all that happened to that woman was never—ever—his fault.
"I've not been a sensitive kid for long now anyway."
Chris nudges at him playfully. "Having to put up with you guys every day, it doesn't seem that long."
Street huffs a chuckle, but the shadows are still lurking in his gaze as he continues, "Why should this year be any different for me? That she's here or not…" He shakes his head ever so slightly, eyes glued to the cozy sweater in his hands. "Truth is, every phone call or visit I ever had with her during this time of the year had been… depressing. I—" This time, he lets out a dry huff. "I didn't think the holiday could feel worse than that, and yet…"
This visit from the Ghost of Past Christmas is doing more harm than Chris doesn't do her magic soon, I'm ready to snap my fingers again.
"Your real family is right here," Chris says, searching Street's gaze. Her eyes are like a pool of hot chocolate on a snowy day, holding authenticity and devotion like the reflection of the blazing hearth. "You're not alone, Street. You'll never be alone as far as I'll have a say in the matter."
A flicker of hope lights Street's hazelnut eyes, the little flame that starts melting the ice clinging to his heart. Sometimes you just need to hear out loud what you always knew in the depths of your heart but that your screaming grief didn't let you believe. And Chris's words are so full of emotion and ring so true, Street can't help but believe them with all his being.
They hold each other intense gaze in silence for a long moment, sparks flowing in the air, inches apart from each other's lips.
#SNAP#
Mistletoe hanging above them catches their peripheral vision. In the back of their heads, confusion gives birth to a million questions, but their hearts both squeal in delight at the inviting temptation.
Then both their phones chime off, Chris's with a boring beep and Street's with a jolly jingle—I'm not even sure how Luca found the time to change his ringtone, but bless him.
Chris and Street both shake heads at their phones and the call of duty that summons them outside. Better not mess with Luca today;I would hate putting someone on my naughty list for it. Their gazes discreetly shoot up to the ceiling and to the now vacant place where they both could swear mistletoe was hanging. Puzzled and sheepish, they steal glances at each other as they get moving.
It's definitely warmer in the SWAT locker room, and that's not thanks to the comfortable sweaters Chris and Street are wearing—which I dare anyone to call ugly. In their eyes shines the certainty they will spend many more Christmases together. And maybe the next time I'll put mistletoe above their heads, they will honor the tradition with lighter hearts.
' o ' o ' o ' o ' o '
But let's go see what has been happening outside while Chris worked her magical touch on Street's soul.
There is so much I want to show you! Luca is about to open all the workstations that my borrowed magic has let him fit in the SWAT parking lot. And everything without disrupting the perfect functionality of the HQ (vehicles, gears, and ready-to-action men). Of course, they don't know they won't need to operate today.
Would you be so kind as to swirl the snow globe? Yes, just like this…
' o ' o ' o ' o ' o '
"I appreciate that you came all the way here to bring this to me before the activities start," Tan says as Bonnie drags him along the growing crowd of kids and adults peppering the SWAT parking lot, "but the thing itches."
"The thing, Victor, is my gift for you," Bonnie objects, tugging at the deep-green sweater embroidered with the Nutcracker in his shiny uniform, complete with boots and the classical tall hat. "The kids judging the Ugly Sweater Competition will love it, I promise," Bonnie continues, resting a hand over Tan's heart. "And it would be nice if you could win that trophy for me."
"And I always thought I was the competitive one in the couple."
"Have I told you how gorgeous you look wearing the little soldier who stole my heart as a child?" Bonnie caresses Tan's cheek, the hint of a stubble grazing her fingers.
"Even after a night shift and the speediest rinsing in that cold shower stall?"
"You could run all day and night after bad guys and not shower at all, and you'll still be my prince." Bonnie's eyes light with her smile. "But I do prefer when you do shower."
Tan chuckles and draws her closer, sealing his mouth over hers. "Have I already told you how much I love you today?"
"No one says you can't tell me multiple times a day," Bonnie smirks, stealing another kiss from her husband. "And I love you, too," she whispers, her lips a hairbreadth from his. "But I still want that trophy. So let's go show you off to those little potential voters."
The contest will come to an end this evening as the last event of the fundraiser party, and kids will have the ultimate word on it. Before the moment comes, every SWAT officer wearing a Christmas sweater can try to convince kids to vote for them by helping the little ones out in various activities. The gig Luca arranged for is that every kid that wants to have some fun may grasp the hand of whatever ugly-sweatered SWAT officer they please, and the game is on. The more little friends you make, the more votes you may gather. And the more joy you may spread.
So, let the party begin. #SNAP#
The music from the karaoke booth wafts through the air, soft notes lighting sparks of joy. And for all the candy canes in the world, look if it isn't retired Sergeant Jeff Munford singing Driving Home For Christmas.
As soon as Bonnie and Tan recover from the surprise, she tags him along to push him in the tiny hands of some potential voter, but a booming voice stops them cold.
"No way, man! You need to change."
"What the—" They watch in shock as Rocker charges toward them, wrapped in the very same sweater Tan is sporting.
"You need to take it off. That's an order."
"I'm not 58-David anymore. I'm not under your direct command, so—" Tan stops when Bonnie intertwines her finger with his.
"Why don't you get changed," she says in a no-nonsense voice. Her eyes rake Rocker up and down—his oversized sweater doesn't cling to his built frame as Tan's does on his leaner body. She squeezes Tan's hand and softens her tone. "You know, I personally bought this sweater for my Chinese husband to help him enter into the Christmas Spirit and connect with my world and culture a bit more. It's really important to me." She battens her long leashes. "You really want to ruin our first Christmas together as a married couple?"
Tan's thin smile breaks into a proud grin. No way a small nuisance like this one can ruin this time of connection for them, but Tan's ready to raise the stake his wife put up all the same. Bonnie is nuts for The Nutcracker—pun intended, and besides, who doesn't?—so much so that Tan's surprise gift for her this year is taking her to the theater to see the ballet. And if winning a cheap trophy in this itchy sweater can add to the magic of that, Tan's intention is to top himself.
Unfortunately, Rocker can read the mood and doesn't bite it. "Well, my own wife bought me this very sweater herself with all the love for me." He pats at his heart. "So, no, thanks, but my wife is the only one with the power of taking it off me," he adds with a wide grin of his own.
Bonnie's cheeks heat up. Valerie Rocker seems to have her same favorite shopping place, same tastes in entertainment, and same ideas for extra-curricular activities. But that would have to wait until much later because Luca might turn into the Grinch and steal their Christmas himself if they just dump him like that.
"Be my guest, Tan. Why don't you go and find a King-Rat-themed sweater to wear? The kids would love that."
"You be King Rat. I have my Clara right here with me, and she deserves her Nutcracker," Tan says, tugging Bonnie close to him.
"Well, my Clara will be here any minute. I'm not going to change."
Tan stares directly into Rocker's eyes. "Maybe we should ask the organizer who needs to go through the trouble."
"You hope your teammate will save you?" Rocker puffs out his muscled chest. "Well, too bad I don't take orders from Luca, organizer or not."
Munford's baritone voice fills the air again on the notes of It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, and this time, retired Sergeant Buck Spivey joins him in the singing. The two of them have taken over the karaoke booth from the start, wearing sweaters embroidered with the same fantasy of tiny reindeer, snowflakes, hearts, though Munford's is in blue tinges and Buck's in red. The classical 20 against 50 squads competition and the selfless SWAT collaboration mingle alongside their voices, and the atmosphere couldn't be more relaxed and joyful.
Bonnie clasps Tan's hand in both hers and smirks at their frenemy. "Your loss, Rocker." She winks at her husband. "Victor sports this far better than you do."
The smile in her voice is so contagious that both men can't help but grin.
Rocker folds his arms across his chest, the Nutcracker's mouth wrinkling oddly beneath them, and locks eyes at turns with Bonnie and Tan. "May the best man win, Mrs. and Mr. Tan. May the best man win."
' o ' o ' o ' o ' o '
Of course, Tan and Rocker don't know yet that, in a minute or two, they'll be challenging each other on another field, helping thrilled kids making snowmen—actually sandmen—at one of the most creative workstations Luca set up.
Surfer boy to the heart—as Tan also is—Luca couldn't resist bringing some of the ocean here to heighten the celebrations. Since a pool with waves would have been a bit out of topic, he arranged a sandbox, so even the kids who have never seen snow but on TV could enjoy the art of 'snowmen' building all the same.
I know you're curious about who will win, but there is a lot more to see. All I can assure you is that every child, small and outgrown, will have tons of fun.
But now who's hungry? I smell gingerbread, don't you? Swirl the snow globe for me and check this inviting smell out. Come on, the globe has never misled me so far…
' o ' o ' o ' o ' o '
Chris and Street come out of the HQ on the notes of Jingle Bell Rock sung by none other than Buck, accompanied by a bunch of cheerful little voices. Their lips quirk up at the beautiful picture, their hearts warm and full at the sight of the huge smile on their mentor's face. He's as happy as he has been in months.
They know they'll be taken hostage by eager kids in no time, but why not enjoy the calm before the storm until they can?
"Wow," Street says as they stroll across the parking lot. "I saw Luca's plans for the day, but I didn't imagine the result would be this…"
"Magical?" Chris prompts.
"I was about to say chaotic, but…"
She bumps into him. "Come on, you're loving this. And I know exactly where you hope to end up helping."
Street paths his stomach, hitting the big red pompom posing as Rudolph's nose at the center of his belly. Of course, his own nose had picked up the gingerbread smell wafting through the air the moment he set foot outside the HQ. "Actually, anywhere I don't have to shove reindeer's poop is good for me," he says. Or singing carols, he adds in his mind. Street loves singing and is quite good at it—and he knows—but right now, he's not in the mood of showing off nor of singing bright and cheery Christmas songs.
Believe it or not, Luca had managed to find two real reindeer for the kids to admire, pet, and feed. They're not two of mine, but I didn't even have to get busy making sure they were well-cared-for because Luca thought of everything. They're stomping playfully in their pen, as contempt as they can be.
"That's what the cadets are here for." Chris's eyes wader past the pen and lend to the ice rink. Yes, Luca provided one of those too. "You think we should help him?"
There is Deacon, who is nearly overwhelmed by kids, his Matthew and Lila included. The blue sweater he's wearing is embroidered with glittery snowflakes and a snowman, complete with an embossed red scarf and black top hat. Lila had chosen the piece of clothing herself, even contributing to paying it with her own savings.
"I'm sure he's got it," Street smiles at the scene. "Four kids or ten, what's the difference for him?"
He may have a point. For all the hot chocolate in the world, it seems to me that every year that passes, I receive one more letter than the previous year from that household, with Deacon and Annie enlarging the family. But that's more than fine by me; the four kids are all high on my nice list. Both the elders had asked for more gifts for their parents and siblings than for themselves, and I'll make sure they'll get everything they want.
Chris shakes her head, huffing a laugh. "You really think with your stomach, don't you?"
Street shrugs, aiming for the snack-serving table near the cookie decoration workstation. "It's not that I don't like a little bit of quiet," he says as his eyes swipe the parking lot. "But I'm starting to feel like the kid who ends up chosen last at dodgeball."
"Don't worry, no chance we'll get ignored for long dressed like this." Chris tugs on his Rudolph's flapping antlers, woven with strings of multicolored bulbs made of fluffy wool.
"Fair point." Once again, Streets takes in the bright sweater that hugs her lean frame, beaming at the three Santa penguins holding candy canes embroidered on it.
As children sing the all-time classic Jingle Bells on their own—the two retired sergeants taking a deserved break—all it takes for the lingering sadness to melt away Street's heart is Chris returning his smile. But may I help his naughty plan to end up where food is concerned?
#SNAP#
Chris's hand is grabbed by little fingers. A glinting-blue-eyed girl with short brown hair gazes up at her in admiration tinged with shyness.
"What can I help you with, chiquita?" Chris asks encouragingly, squinting at the girl's name tag and at the mistletoe decoration pinned right below it on her chest. Her heart makes a little flip—hunt by the mistletoe. "Sylvia, what a beautiful name. Did you make that pin all by yourself?"
The girl—eight years old next January if I remember right—smiles proudly and nods. "I'd like to decorate gingerbread. A-a-all the things. Cookies, gingerbread men, houses… everything." She has the stars in her eyes. "Are you good at it, officer Chris?" The modified badges Luca made all his colleagues wear seem to serve their scope perfectly.
"Oh, she's the absolute best," Street chimes in, smiling though feeling officially the last choice in the playground. "You know what? She renovated my house, and it came out delicious."
"You live in a gingerbread house?" Sylvia asked with big doe eyes.
Street leans over and whispers, "Will you keep my secret?" He looks delighted at the broadening smile on Sylvia's face, then his attention is grabbed by his sweater being tugged down at the hem.
"Are you any good at it, officer Jim?" asks the girl—six-year-old—with shiny black curls tamed in buns styled as garlands on each side of the top of her head.
Street smiles sheepishly at her and at the boy—four-year-old—clung to her hand, whose dark eyes shins, too. "I'm sure you can teach me alright… Monique." As happy as ever to be dragged where the food is, Street beams his most charming dimpled smile. "Should we try right now?"
"Can my baby brother help? Luis's not very good, but maybe I can teach him, too?"
Extra brownie points for Monique for sharing joy and love. That's the spirit.
"The more, the merrier," Chris says, tugging at Sylvia's hand. "Come on, guys, we have cookies to decorate."
Street scoops up little Luis and takes Monique by hand, and they follow Sylvia and Chris to the working station. They'll have to share the table since the other one at disposal for this activity is already occupied by Stevens, Benni, and their young helpers.
At the ready for them, there are cookies of all the Christmassy shapes you can think of and everything needed to assemble gingerbread houses. Of course, there are multi-colored frosting bowls, too, as well as rock candies, jelly beans, licorice strings, chocolate nuggets, raisins, and nuts.
"Psst," Sylvia whispers, spying on Stevens. "Is he a real elf?"
"Isn't he too big?" Monique scrunch up her face. "You think he's like the clumsy one in that movie?"
Chris and Street exchange glances and smirks as the grin on Stevens' face broadens. The man is wearing a green elf hat, a deep-green sweater with countless miniature busy elves on it, and even jingles on pointy shoe-covers. Benni, though, must have had the wrong memo since instead of elves, he was sporting a Christmas Elvis.
With all these mighty contestants, it will be hard for Tan and Rocker to even place in the top three. They might have to settle to be the best Nutcracker for their respective Clara.
"My team against yours, Street?" Stevens asks, competitiveness crackling in the air. He's still not over the fact the younger officer won the Master Gunner title the last time after he'd detained it for years. "Andy, Cole, Leah? What do you say? Are you up for a challenge against these second-order Santa helpers?"
I'll let the mean definition pass this time; I know Stevens means just playing. Bless the kids who bring joy to even the hardest hearts—although old Stevens is a softie once you pass his hard shell, shaped from years on the force.
Little Saint Nick echoes in the air while the teams fiddle with the sweet 'cement and bricks' they have at disposal. Delight can be breathed at full lungs as Luca sweeps by. His current occupation is to make sure the photographer snaps pictures of every child having fun. Their parents or guardians will treasure the memento for them if ever their Christmas spirit will subside as they grow up and face challenges.
"Street!" Chris swats him on the arm. "You're supposed to give a good example."
A self-conscious smile tugs at his blue frosting stained lips. "Gordon Ramsey always says tasting while cooking is fundamental."
"Does Gordon Ramsey know these were all pre-cooked by the best bakery in LA?"
Street shrugs one shoulder. "I'm sure he's too busy to come here and yell at me as he does with all those poor chefs on TV. Am I right, Luis?"
The little guy nods solemnly, multi-colored frosting smeared all over his chin.
Monique and Sylvia look at each other, eyes rolling like pros. "Boys," they say in unison, shaking their heads.
Cheery little voices and the deeper ones of Mumford, Buck, and Hicks fill the parking lot. Carol after carol, the teams continue assembling and decorating, each of them spying on the other's house while other kids not involved in the challenge stop by to have their go with simple cookies.
"Stop eating the walls, Street," Chris says exasperated over the background notes of Rocking Around The Christmas Tree.
"What?" He lifts his hands, palms up. "It was broken. We wouldn't use it anyway."
"It was broken because your…" she squints at the black-frosted cookie in front of him. "…ninja gingerbread man breached into it."
"Well, it is a gingerbread woman, and she's wearing SWAT gears. Isn't it clear?"
"No," Stevens says unhelpfully, peeking from the next table.
"She does look a little like you, officer Chris." Monique giggles and jerks her thumb in Street's direction. "He's not that bad."
"Of course, he was inspired," Sylvia chimes in. "Just like this cookie, I want to be like you when I grow up, officer Chris."
Chris's heart melts hearing these words.
"Who would not be like you?" Street shrugs, handing Chris-cookie to the woman who inspired it. "I was just showing our helpers how we do things at SWAT." He grabs half a gingerbread man that lays on the table surrounded by cobbles of cookie walls and winks at the kids, chomping it. "Mind you, we don't normally eat bad guys," he says around a mouthful, "but with these ones, we'll make a special exception. What do you say, officer Chris?"
Sylvia, Monique, and Luis gaze up at Chris, anticipation in their huge eyes. From the other table, the other kids join them, eyes glinting with hope and hunger as well.
"Look what you did, officer Jim." She scowls at Street, then softens her features. "Fine, one taste for each of you." She breaks out more gingerbread and distributes it to every kid. "But only one, or we'll not have any material to finish the task and expose our creations."
The children munch, murmuring in disappointment, while crumbs spread on their clothes and on the pavement of the parking lot. I'll make sure to send some birds to have a little feast later.
"But once my team wins the challenge," Stevens adds, "we'll all go down there"—he gestures at the next stand—"and fill you up with so much hot chocolate and so many candies our commander will be sent the dentist bill," he finishes, becoming the hero of the day.
' o ' o ' o ' o ' o '
You want to guess whose gingerbread house will win? I'm not saying anything, but consider Chris is the only one there that has ever helped build walls instead of just breaching through them. Her team is at an advantage, sure. Well, assuming Street doesn't actually eat everything on the table.
But that's not the important thing, is it?
Forgive me if I say so myself, but I think I rocked the task of giving each SWAT officer, and especially each 20-David, a wonderful day. Yes, even the cadets who had to shovel reindeer's poop. Instead of meeting kids on their darkest and scariest days, they could share with them light and joy, showing them there still is some good in this world. Something they need to be reminded of, too, with all they see every day on the line of duty.
Well, who better than me can pull a Christmas miracle?
Hey, wait, where are you going? You think I would let you leave without making you see how the Ugly Sweater Contest ends? I know I said winning and losing is not a matter of importance, but this is the event of the day. And I know you're curious.
Swirl the snow globe one last time and come close…
' o ' o ' o ' o ' o '
The sun is setting, and soft music plays in the background. If you recognize the tune playing but not the lyrics, you've not gone crazy; they're in German. Once the karaoke booth had been closed, Luca had put on the playlist one of his TLI buddies had sent him as a heartfelt reminder of all the months they spent together in the last year and a half.
Luca bunches on the balls of his feet, waiting for the lighting of the trees he'd set at the center of the parking lot. What could he be sporting on his sweater as my Number One Helper if not a flattering portrait of me, Santa Clause, in person?
Excitement seeps through the crowd. The attraction of the evening is the huge pine tree Luca had trimmed by professionals in silver and blue colors. It is majestic and fine-looking, and the kids will surely have to be reminded to close their jaws once the thousands of little bulbs are lit, but more than anything, they will be super-proud of the two smaller pine trees that will also be illuminated, the ones ornate with their little hands.
Hondo—wearing a green sweater embroidered with a llama with a Santa hat, colorful scarf, and sunglasses—thrives as he surveys the scene. His job for the day had been assisting kids in hanging on the trees the hand-made paper ornaments, painted balls, and strings of popcorn and cranberries that other SWAT officers had helped them create. He can skip arms day tomorrow due to all the child-lifting he did today, but right now, his heart couldn't be fuller, recalling all the wishes the kids had written on the back of the cards he helped them put up the trees.
"Good job," Hicks says, coming to a halt next to Hondo.
"It's all on Luca's hands."
As on cue, up the small stage illuminated from the side by Black Betty's headlights, Luca taps on the microphone. As the last notes of Stille Nacht fade in the air, silence falls, full of expectation. "Thank you all for the marvelous day," he smiles his most heartwarming smile. "Thanks to the kids and their families for being here with us, enjoying our company, and to all who donated even a single penny for this important cause."
Cheering erupts from the over-excited SWAT officers and sugar-high children.
"Okay, okay, calm down." Luca makes eloquent gestures, his blue eyes shining and still smiling as big as his mouth lets him. "Before we can proceed with lighting the trees and exchanging good wishes, we still have one last thing to do." He accepts the envelope Fowler hands him; the cadets had been responsible for counting the votes for the Ugly Sweater Contest, and now it's time to reveal the winner.
The SWAT officers mingling with the crowd perk their ears up. Tan squeezes Bonnie's hand, and they both glare at Rocker and Valerie doing the same superstitious gesture. Stevens stands tall, jingling his pointy feet, sure he'll be the winner. The Kay family all gather around Deacon while Chris stands shoulder to shoulder with Street, each of them fully convinced the other will win.
"And the lucky winner is… Commander Bob," Luca announces with a grin. He did hope to win himself, but objectively, the commander was on another level.
Hicks reaches Luca on the stage, his blue sweater hugging him comfortably. Glittery snowflakes adorn his back and upper chest, falling on a Christmas tree decorated with shiny red balls and embossed candy canes. Under the three, there are colorful presents wrapped with embossed golden and silver bows. But what crowns him as the king of the SWAT Christmas party are the functioning lights that adorn the tree, blinking on his chest as they're winking at the kids.
Who better than the good Commander to light the trees then?
Aahs and oohs sound from children and adults alike as they stare mesmerized at the display of lights. But the show isn't over. It's time to surprise Luca as well.
#SNAP#
Snow starts falling in chilly, soft flakes as big as pennies. A miracle welcomed by huge eyes and thriving hearts.
Tan and Bonnie exchange a kiss, not needing any mistletoe to inspire them, and Rocker and Valerie follow their lead. Hondo helps Annie keep her four kids in check as Deacon and Street—who is pushed on the stage by Chris—are chosen to substitute the exhausted and dry-throated Mumford and Buck in singing White Christmas as the ending tone for the night instead of the planned Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. And they couldn't have made better choices; their voices mingle perfectly and add the final touch to the peaceful atmosphere.
Luca's chest fills with pride and joy while his eyes shoot up to the sky just in time to see the fling of my sleigh passing by.
Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas!
' o ' o ' o ' o ' o '
' o ' o ' o ' o ' o '
Ending note: Thanks to Lalez for the musical inspiration, and to the SWAT cast's Instagram, too.
I hope you enjoyed my little SWAT snow globe as well as Santa's narration. This was my attempt to lighten the mood, and though I couldn't help slipping in some depth here and there, I hope it made you smile a little bit. Okay, to tell you the truth, I just needed a sprout of magic myself. If you find the holiday season tough, you're not alone. Breathe, we can do it.
Hugs, love, and best wishes.