A Christmas Story by Darlene Beck Jacobson

 

I remember when I first knew for sure there was no Santa.  My sister Sandra and I were playing on our screened in  porch on an unseasonably warm day in December. It had to be warm. The porch had seventeen windows, each covered in a pane of glass for the winter, but you could feel and hear the cold air whistling through the cracks. The porch also had no heat and would have been impossible to play in under normal winter conditions. Mom kept a giant freezer out there, tucked against the wall connected to the kitchen which had the electrical outlet. The back of the porch held everything from paint cans, ladder, tools, holiday decorations, discarded furniture and toys.that might one day be needed but were not part of the household furnishings. This section was covered by a folding screen about 6 feet high.

Sandra and I sat next to the windows, fooling around at a table- probably playing house or some such thing. We were always inventing games, building forts, creating universes. In the midst of our play, I got up to look for something behind the screen.  

As I peered around the edge, my eyes popped open and my heart picked up speed.  Stacked behind the screen, in a towering pile of boxes, were the unwrapped items from our Christmas wish list to Santa.

In the seconds that felt like minutes, childhood innocence disappeared. I looked at Sandra – nearly two years younger than me – and thought, should I tell her or not? What if she still believes? What if she still wants to believe?

In my own heart of hearts, I knew before this that Santa was really Mom and Dad, but having this solid, shocking proof deflated some of the magic that went with the holiday. I’d like to think I didn’t tell Sandra what I saw. I don’t remember if I did. Regardless, she found out one way or another and somehow Christmas – at least my version of it – was never quite the same. That special fantasy of not knowing for sure made the season more magical in my young eyes.  

 

As an adult I found other kinds of magic to attach to the holiday. Quieter and less mystical moments. It wasn’t until I had children of my own that I witnessed the unique, unadorned joy that sparkled around the Christmas season likes the lights on the tree.

 

MERRY CHRISTMAS. HAPPY HANUKKAH. KWANZAA BLESSINGS. May your holiday memories be magical! 

 Me and my little sister Sandra circa 1959

 

Darlene Beck Jacobson finds the spirit of Christmas alive and well and enjoys remembering special moments from the holidays past and present.