When Santa forgot

[mount_oregano]

 I was ten years old when Santa forgot me. I got up on Christmas morning and rushed down to the tree to see what he had left.

Of course I knew that Santa didn’t exist — or rather, I knew that Mom and Dad were Santa. But since I had a little brother and sister, the magical Santa still came to our house.

I found only one box for me under the tree, which meant it would be especially good. Instead, it was just a hat and scarf set, and not a very good hat and scarf set, or even a color I liked. I felt disappointed and most of all bewildered. For the benefit of the little ones, I acted happy, but I wasn’t.

Soon my mother called me aside and apologized. In the confusion of the holiday, she and Dad had miscounted gifts and realized late the night before that they had nothing for me from Santa, so Dad ran out and got something quick. She hoped I understood, and I did, I really did. Those two little ones sowed constant confusion. I imagined Dad going to the only place open on late Christmas Eve night, which in those days was probably a gas station, and given the limited merchandise, he had made a good choice.

And yet I had to hide tears. I wasn’t unhappy with my parents. I genuinely appreciated the effort. I wore the hat and scarf, and they were warm.

What hurt me was the proof of something I had already suspected but hadn’t wanted to believe: the world had no magic, no guarantees. It was full of human beings who made mistakes. An innocently botched Christmas gift was trifling, but devastating mistakes were possible, too. Given time — and a ten-year-old has lots of time ahead of her — devastating mistakes would happen. I got my proof that Christmas morning.

Sometimes Santa simply forgets.

Comments

[cmcmck]

He forgot me when I reached fifteen and well, you know what happened...........

That was when I found out that adults lie about unconditional love.

[mount_oregano]

And you discovered a truth...

[asakiyume]

I feel what you're saying. It *is* painful: that in this world, not out of malice but just out of chance, things can happen that hurt. You capture how child-you felt so well.

At my current advanced age, the thing I feel reading this, though, is compassion and empathy for your parents, who wanted you to be happy, knew that what they had managed in the moment was lackluster, and explained and apologized. And then tremendous love for child-you, who bravely was good about the whole thing, despite what she'd realized and the sadness she felt because of that. The mutual love that represents: your parents toward you, and you toward your parents, seems so moving to me right now.

[mount_oregano]

Thank you. We were all doing our best.