Christmas Story

This is a story about the best Christmas I ever had. I was about five or six. My mom was divorced and working trying to support my brother and I. We were just barely getting by, living on a farm out in the middle of nowhere. Christmas was coming, and I knew one thing for sure: Santa wasn’t coming to our house.

On Christmas Eve, my brother and I went out into a snow blizzard to find a tree. The snow drifts came up to my chest. The only thing we could find was an old dead branch. So we dragged it into the house and slapped it into the stand. It may have been slightly askew. We decided it was cool because Snoopy had a tree just like it. We didn’t have any ornaments, so we made some mini Christmas presents out of this orange, brown and yellow tissue paper we had from Halloween. We made a star out of some tinfoil I stole off the TV antenna. Mom was pissed when she tried to watch “Wheel of Fortune” later. I also fashioned a few nooses and hung some stuffed animals from it. Nothing says Christmas like a dead branch with suicidal stuffed animals hanging from it with a bitchin’ Halloween flair and what appeared to be leftovers as a star. We were really proud of that tree. It was one of a kind to say the least. Martha comes to us directly for all her crafting ideas.

My mom sent us to bed. I dragged ass going up those stairs to my room. I flopped down in my bed and looked out my window hoping to see Santa. I barely slept that night. As each hour passed, my sadness grew. I remember watching the sun come up over the horizon and crying when I saw daylight. Santa had skipped our house just like I knew he would.

My brother woke up and jumped out of bed and ran towards the stairs. I slowly followed him. As I got halfway down the stairs, I looked up, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. There stood the most perfect tree that I had ever seen. There was an avalanche of presents descending from it. My favorite present was a perfect little pink baby doll carriage. Not that I had any dolls… Well, none with heads on them anyways. I was super pumped because now I had a way to transport all the mice I had collected from the field. Don’t tell my mom, but there may have been a few escapees over the years. The kitchen counters were overflowing with food. A church had picked several needy families to sponsor in the area, and we were one of them. I felt like I was in a movie or an after-school special. It was perfection.

I believed in Santa probably longer than any kid should have because of that day. That may have been the best gift of all… hope. Dreams really can come true!