... think I was eight then, sounds about
right.  The best Christmas EVer, well,
was, until my older sister ruined it ----
but back to the beginning.  My Daddy
loved Christmas; was his favorite time
of year.  He loved his children; he 
wanted to make this one extra special
for his youngest, the twins.  Us.  While
visions of sugarplums twitched us in
and out of sleep and was that a sleigh's
bell we heard?!?, Santa came, Santa
came!  We knew it the minute we awoke
--- we ran down the stairs and when we
got around the corner, we stopped ---
what a sight greeted our eyes.  Could
barely see the tree for the presents that
were in front of it; Santa's footprints
went from chimney to tree and back, to
the table where we had lovingly set out
cookies and milk (he ate every one and
drank every drop), his boots leaving a
mark everywhere he stepped.  And in
front of the presents was a polar bear ---
with a red bow 'round its neck, a tag
with my twin sis' name on it.  Her face lit
up brighter than the Christmas tree
lights; she went down on one knee and
reached out to give it a hug --- a memory
captured in my eyes and in the flash of a
camera.  Santa had brought me a little
toy kitty, a Siamese, one with a jewelled
collar, so it had to be a royal cat --- I was
going on about how he came, Santa
came!, when my older sister told me that
there was no such thing as Santa --- oh,
and the Tooth Fairy and the Easter bunny
weren't real, either.  Well, I ran out of the
living room and bawled my eyes out ---
that was the day the magic died, the best
and worst Christmas of them all.  And now
Daddy's gone --- he died last year and oh,
God, how I miss him.  I secretly believe
there IS a Santa Claus --- still leave out the
milk and cookies just in case he stops by
and has one little present in his toy bag
for me.  Wish it could be my Daddy, but
there isn't a toy bag that would be big
enough to hold him and his love for me,
who made that Christmas one to remember.

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman (12/23)