Magic in Costa Rica

Ginger

 After reading Mr. Miller's email, I emerged from my room with a smile on my face. I found my dad already sitting on the couch, and he greeted me with his own smile.

"Good morning, Dad. Merry Christmas," I sat down across from him.

"Merry Christmas, honey. You seem awfully chipper."

"I guess I just have Christmas spirit."

"So, what do you want to do today?"

"I don't know," I said, thinking, "We could bake some cookies, maybe do some reading, just a nice, quiet day," I shrugged. My dad sighed and shook his head.

"Not good enough."

* * *

My dad and I never really celebrated holidays since mom died, but there was something about this Christmas that made it extra festive. Maybe it was because I finally had friends, well, a friend, and was doing so well in school. Or maybe it was because I had been working so much and was just happy to have a break. Maybe my dad was so cheerful because he had been stopping by Stewart's every weekend to chat with Laurie and the human interaction had done him some good, or maybe he was just happy to see me doing so well. I did think that there was a possibility that the only reason he was making such an event out of this Christmas was because he felt guilty for screwing up my birthday, but whatever the reason, I didn't care. I was just happy to spend a day having fun with my dad.

We each opened our gifts to one another in the living room before getting ready for the day. I got him a new mouse pad and a fancy metal comb that he saw in a shop window a few weeks earlier. He got me a blue sweater and a pair of brown leather boots.

"Dad!" I joked, "You should work in fashion, you have great taste!"

After opening presents we got dressed, I put on my new sweater and boots, and headed out the door. First we went to the Frog Pond to ice skate, which was bustling with people. My dad fell about five times, and my ankles hurt so badly I could barely walk afterwards, but it was exhilarating and fun. Next, we went to the market to buy molasses and cookie cutters, and headed home to make gingerbread cookies. My dad wasn't much of a baker, but I had a knack for it, and even though it took us longer than expected, they turned out delicious. So delicious, in fact, that my dad decided we should put them in jars and drop them off to our friends and neighbors. So, while he went to the store to get jars and ribbons, I decorated all the cookies with royal icing, which proved to be much more difficult that I thought it would be.

"I got the jars!" my dad came through the door, carrying two loaded paper bags.

"Jesus, how many did you get?" I raised my eyebrows.

"A dozen. There was a deal. I also got ribbons." He shrugged. I laughed.

"Do we even know a dozen people to give these to?"

"Sure we do!" He put the bags on the counter and started counting with his fingers. "There's Laurie, of course. Carla and her family, Bob, my boss-"

"You have a boss? Have you ever even met him?"

"Of course I have! Just because I work from home, doesn't mean I don't go to work functions. And we have meetings over Skype, so that counts."

"Hey, Dad? What exactly is your job?" I asked. He looked at me, caught off guard.

"You don't know what my job is?" I shook my head. "I'm the head data processor for a computer company," he paused, "Okay now that I say it, it doesn't sound like much. I interpret all the data we get from our customers to estimate what changes we could make to improve future products. Does that make sense?"