It’s Christmas Eve and I’m wrapping gifts. Why am I suddenly feeling sad? My chest hurts as if I have heartburn and my nose burns the way it always does when I’m holding back tears.
After all these years and after telling the story to those close to me, I still remember the Christmas Eve that I hoped that there was a Santa Claus. I still feel the pain I felt that Christmas morning when I really knew that there was no Santa Claus. I have had so many joyful and happy holidays since then, but the feelings of that one Christmas Eve always ambush me this time of year.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, I don’t know how I had a few dollars to spend, but I had been happy when I bought small gifts for my mother, grandmother, grandfather, and little sister. I don’t recall whether or not my little brother was living with us or with my daddy during this particular Christmas time. But on Christmas Eve, I had the horrible thought that these folks, my family, may not have thought to get a gift for me. I hoped they would care enough about me to understand that if I didn’t receive a gift from them, I would think that they didn’t love me.
I was standing at the window looking out at the sky hoping that some man dressed in a red suit would find his way into our apartment and leave something, anything with my name on it that I could unwrap on Christmas morning. I listened long into the night and never heard anything like Santa Claus sneaking in to leave something for me.
The next morning, there were gifts for my little sister. I don’t remember the other gifts, but there was no gift for me. I finally accepted the fact that there was no Santa Claus. I felt embarrassed and almost apologetic that I was unworthy of even one small gift. I was ashamed that someone as old as I was even entertained the idea that there was a Santa Claus. I was fourteen years old.