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Cultural Background |
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Storyteller's Cabin |
I believed her at first, but then I started hearing other things at school. And when we'd go into town, I'd sneak a look at some of the Christmas magazines and books. I learned that, for someone who supposedly isn't real, an awful lot of people seemed to believe in him. He lived up in the North Pole and had a team of elves that built toys for him. And when Christmas came, he'd hop in his sleigh and deliver those toys to children who'd been good all year round. And we're not just talking down the street - he delivered presents as far away as China - all in one night!
I presented this evidence to my mother on Christmas Eve that year. And I told her that, other than the time I scared Mrs. Robinson's mule with a firecracker, and the time I threw mud at Jimmy Harlan (he deserved it, by the way), I'd been a pretty good kid. Why hadn't Santa come out to see us?
My older brothers and sisters looked at each other with this sad look. And I remember tears suddenly filling my mama's eyes as she turned away. I wasn't too young to know that I'd just asked a question I shouldn't have.
You ever have one of those moments when you suddenly find out the truth about something, and everything around you seems to change? Well that's what happened to me that night. I looked around at our musty, cold cabin filled with broken furniture and empty cabinets. I noticed the old, ragged shirts we wore, their colors scrubbed out long ago in the hard stream water. I noticed the jagged mountains towering above us, blanketing us in dark shadows broken only by the candles we placed around the room.
I then knew the truth - Santa was real, and he wasn't coming to see us. Only children with real homes in fancy cities would find him sliding down their chimneys Christmas morning. Santa had forgotten us, and it looked like it was going to stay that way.
Talk about getting down in the mouth - that was me all over. I wasn't in the mood to do all the happy holiday stuff we did in years past. After all, if Christmas was a holiday for rich people, why should we bother celebrating it?
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