“Better late than never,” Bob Essig said to himself. He spent a lifetime delivering the mail harboring deeply buried secret fantasies of things like this, but he never actually had it happen—until his last day before retirement.

For 28 years, Alice Miller had been the chairwoman of Child Haven in Honeysuckle, Pennsylvania. She had a heavy heart as she prepared to call the board meeting to order. Local mailman, Bob Essig, has been the most productive source of contributions during his 35 years of service to the community.

Every year, Bob dressed as Santa each weekend in December and went door to door with simple gifts for each family that he bought with his own money. At the same time, he collected contributions for the orphanage. He had the natural white bushy beard and was stocky enough that padding wasn’t necessary. He was the perfect guy to play the part both in appearance and in disposition. Bob was downright lovable. This was to be his last year before he retired to Florida, a place he referred to as “God’s waiting room.”

Alice loudly cleared her throat to quiet the group. “Folks, let’s get started. First, let’s talk about our beloved Santa and this year’s funding drive. I think we need to do something special for Bob. I know you’ve all been thinking of ideas. Anyone care to share their thoughts?”

John Orich raised his hand to get Alice’s attention. “Several of us have talked informally about sending a special announcement to the citizens of Honeysuckle about Bob’s retirement. You all know he’s always been special to the folks around here. We’re all the family he’s had since his wife died several years ago, and he’s truly treasured by the people of our community. We thought the announcement should encourage each family to give a small gift or memento.”

Alice clasped her hands together and smiled. “Great idea. I love it. But we need to remind people that monetary gifts won’t work because Bob will just add it to the contributions to the orphanage. Jacob, you have something to add?

“Yes. I’ve talked to the owners of the factory and they’ve made a generous offer. Every dollar Bob raises this year will be matched by the company. That will give people motivation to dig deeper and make this the year we may be able to afford the renovations Child Haven needs.”

The board was overjoyed with the plan. The previous year Bob raised almost $50,000. If the community really responded, Child Haven could net $200,000 or more.

The buzz all around town was hard to keep secret from Bob, but he was so humble that he rarely thought of himself, so he was oblivious to all the excitement that was created on his behalf.

He happily made his rounds delivering the mail and thoroughly enjoyed the friendly folks he encountered. He felt a little sad when he thought of leaving the town he had loved all his life, but everything in the community reminded him of memories with his wife and he wanted a fresh start. Plus, the cold winters were starting to bother him. He always loved the seasons and even the snow, but the aches and pains of age were changing his point of view. Had he and his wife been blessed with children he would have felt an unbreakable bond to the area, but when she died he was left with no family to enjoy.

In recent years Bob spent Thanksgiving with Alice Miller and her family. He loved being surrounded by her children and grandchildren, about half of whom were adopted through Child Haven. Bob’s feelings of joy from being with them was genuine, but so was the wave of melancholy that always struck him when he went home to his empty house. He knew the sadness would come, but he would never trade the few hours of warmth and love he felt as an honorary member of Alice’s clan. His joyful heart always rebounded strongly.

After the Thanksgiving dinner, Alice pulled Bob aside to talk with him.

“When are you starting your special rounds as Santa this year?”

“I’m planning to begin this weekend. I used to do it over three Sunday’s, but I figure my old legs could stand to use all four this year.”

“Well, I want you to be prepared for something. This year, many of the people you visit may have something special for the mailman they all love and will miss.”

“Oh, Alice, what did you do?”

“Listen. I know you’ll probably be embarrassed, but this town cares about you and they want to give you little gifts to remind you of them and let you know how appreciated you are. Don’t spoil it for them.”

Bob sheepishly grinned and stared down at the floor. “Is that an order?”

“Yes, but that’s not all. In special recognition of how you’ve helped Child Haven, the factory in town is matching every dollar you raise this year for the orphanage.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“No, I’m not. You are special to these people, present company included.”

“I’m ... overwhelmed. That’s so amazing!”

Alice hugged her friend and, with a tear in her eye, whispered into his ear. “You’re amazing, my friend, and will always be thought of with love in our hearts.”

Bob walked home and was overcome with emotions. Leaving for Florida in several weeks was gonna be hard enough, but now it felt even more like his heart would break when he drove away.

The day after Thanksgiving, Bob picked up his Santa suit from the cleaners. He was fortunate that his walking mail route kept him fit, and the suit that fit him 30 years ago was still perfect.

That Sunday after church, Bob went home and changed into jolly old Santa and set out on his mission.

Almost every house he visited went out of their way to share their warm feelings and wishes for Bob. There were a few houses where nobody was home, several where their gift was left with a neighbor or between the screen and the door, and two where he knew there were folks inside but they didn’t answer. Not everyone was as kind and as charitable as the majority of the townspeople, but Bob harbored no ill feelings.

His simple gifts for each family, a jar of jam made by a local Amish farm and a candy cane for each child, were warmly received. The gifts they gave him varied greatly. The most common was a gift certificate for restaurants in the area where Bob was moving. Even more thrilling was the size of the checks he was getting for Child Haven. Folks who may have given $10 or $20 in the past were giving hundreds. Several wrote checks for thousands of dollars, the largest being $10,000 from Mayor Stills.

Every Sunday was the same. Family after family expressed the depth of their warm feelings for their beloved mailman. Alice called him the day before his last round to give him an update.

“Bob, it’s been a more successful campaign than we ever imagined and there’s still a day to go.”

“I know I’ve collected some large checks. How are they adding up?”

“Believe it or not, you’ve collected $107,955.00 so far. If that doesn’t tell you how much these people care for you, I don’t know what will.”

Bob was overcome with emotion. “I ... I don’t know what to say.”

He had trouble sleeping that night. Joy and gratitude flooded his entire being.

This was it. It was the final Sunday before Christmas. The following day would be his last with the post office, and two days after Christmas the moving van would be there.

Bob put on the suit for the last time, or so he assumed. He looked at himself in the mirror and couldn’t stop a few tears from falling.

“It’s the final journey for this Santa,” he told the reflection staring back at him. “Let’s be jolly!”

Each family received him the same way as those he visited the previous weeks. Finally, with only a few streets remaining, the mass of emotions started to overtake his composure.

Nancy Parker smiled as she opened the door to greet him. “Mr. Essig ... I mean ... Santa, welcome!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Parker. Merry Christmas! Here’s a little gift for you and your husband.”

“Thank you,” she said as she hugged him tightly. “I have a little gift for you, too, as well as a gift for Child Haven.”

“You and Mr. Parker are so kind. Thank you.”

Nancy beamed with pride and affection. “Go ahead and open it.”

He tore the paper off and beheld a scrapbook Nancy had clearly made by hand. “This is marvelous. It has ... oh my, how did you find all these?”

“The library has all the issues of the local paper going back more than a hundred years. These are all articles where you or your wife were mentioned, and some historic town events you may find interesting.”

Bob was so touched he could barely speak. They parted with a warm hug and he fought to control his tears.

The next house was the home of a sweet widow named Ann Landis. She was in her 80s and didn’t have much money, but she still gave $100 for the orphanage. Her gift for Bob was a hand-knit scarf. It was heartfelt, for sure, but not very practical for where he’d be living. Still, he was touched by her kindness and expressions of affection for her “favorite” mailman.

Abe and Penny Stoltzfus greeted Bob on the porch as he approached. Penny was very shy and quiet, but Abe more than made up for her silence with a boisterous manner and a booming voice. “Mr. Santa Essig, it’s so good to see you, but we’re so sad to see you retire.”

“Merry Christmas, folks. Yes, retirement creates lots of mixed emotions. I’ll miss the people and the work, but it’s time for me to be put out to pasture.”

“Well, my old friend, Penny and I have a little present for you, and this check for the orphanage.”

“Thank you ... oh, my. Fifty thousand dollars! How can you ... I mean ... that’s ... I, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything, my friend. Penny and I just received a large inheritance and we wanted to give a good portion of it to Child Haven. Doing it in your honor just makes it all, well, perfect.”

Penny smiled and took Bob’s hand. “Mr. Essig, our present is a gift certificate for the grocery store near your new home. I hope that helps you get settled in.”

Bob left the Stoltzfus home with little remaining control of his emotions. He only had a few more homes to visit, but he had to take a break on a bench to gather himself.

He had no idea how much composure he was going to need.

Doug and Bambi Hughes moved to town about two years earlier from California. Doug was in sales for the factory in town and he traveled extensively. His wife was a California girl to the core, and as pretty as a woman could be.

Bob didn’t really expect much from them. They hadn’t given to Child Haven in the past and, although he talked with Bambi on occasion, he didn’t know her very well. Being honest with himself, her “magazine-cover beauty” was intimidating and he struggled being comfortable in her presence. Bob timidly approached their front door almost hoping they weren’t home. Before he even knocked, the front door opened.

Mrs. Hughes cheerfully smiled and greeted him wearing her long, pink morning robe. “Hiya, Santa! Come on in.”

“Mmm ... Merry Christmas, Mrs. Hughes.”

She almost sang her enthusiastic reply. “Merry Christmas. Oh, please call me Bambi.”

She gently closed the door and guided him by the arm into the living room.

“Uh, Missus, umm, Bambi, I have this little gift for you and your husband. I hope you’ll accept it with my appreciation for you and all the folks on my route.”

“Oh ... thank you, Santa Bob. I have a gift for you too, and I really look forward to giving it to you.”

“Thank you, Bambi. I hope...”

Before he could finish his sentence, Bambi dropped her robe and revealed the most perfect naked female body he had ever seen.

“You like your present?”

“I ... uh ... well ... Missus ... I mean ... Bambi.”

Bambi pretended to pout and walked directly in front of Bob. “Don’t you like it?” She gently stroked the front of his pants. “It seems you like it a little, actually, not so little.”

Bob was completely flustered, and gently took her hand that was stroking his growing interest.

“What about your husband? I don’t think he’d approve.”

“He’s the one who asked me to.”

Bob and his wife had spent many hours planning their retirement in Florida. It had taken him a long time to warm up to the idea, but she had done a great job convincing him. After she passed he considered scrapping the idea and staying in Honeysuckle, but the growing feeling that he was dishonoring his wife’s wishes swayed him to go through with the grand plan.

He bought the home in the Tampa Bay retirement community during a quick visit in November. He bought all new furniture online and arranged with his real estate agent to set everything up before he arrived. Clothing, keepsakes, and kitchen goods were being packed and shipped along with a few pieces of furniture that were family heirlooms. All the other furniture and remaining household items were donated to the Child Haven Thrift Store.

Bob and the moving company arrived at his new home on December 29 and he started the process of making his new house into a home.

The next morning, he was putting things away in his new kitchen when he heard the doorbell. He opened the door to the sight of about a dozen folks all wearing huge smiles.

A tall, distinguished-looking older gentleman was the designated spokesman. “Greetings, and welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Joe Collins and we’re the unofficial welcoming committee.”

Joe took his time introducing everyone. In his days as a mailman, Bob always did well remembering names and he hoped he could recall each one whenever he saw them about.

Bob noticed something else. Joe and a spry gent named Paul were the only men in the group. “So, Joe, is one of these lovely ladies your wife?”

Joe flashed his smile and chuckled. “Oh, no—although there are a few candidates. Paul belongs to Margie over there, but my wife passed on several years ago.”

“I, too, lost my bride just a few years ago. So other than Margie, are all these women single?”

Joe pulled him closer as if to tell him a secret. “Bob, my friend, there are 140 homes in this complex. With your arrival, there are now three single men. Old Sam is in his mid-nineties and doesn’t get around much. There are 59 married couples. Four houses are empty and for sale, so do the math.”

Bob thought for a few seconds before his eyebrows raised in astonishment. “You mean to tell me that there are 74 single women in this neighborhood?”

“That’s what I’m telling you. Now, about twenty of the ladies are in poor health, and another twenty or so are in their upper eighties or beyond, but that leaves thirty to thirty-five very eligible ladies, most of whom are very willing to consider a relationship. You’ve found the happy hunting ground, my friend.”