From the Memoir. Christmastime 2007

Among the piles of notes on my desk was an errand list, itemized by store. We needed a rake from Home Depot, olive oil from Costco, and from the grocery store—in different handwriting—we needed a dog. I asked G about it.

“Mama, I think we should have two houses, attached to each otha wif a door.”

“Why?”

“So you an’ I can have a dog an’ Papa doesn’ hafta. Den when you wan a bweak, I can jus go nex’ door to Papa, an’ da dog can stay wif you.”

“So it’s all about a dog?”

“Yep. I weally want a dog!”

Soon it was the time of year when we revisited the Santa question. “Is Santa weal? He’s weal in da hearts of parents, right?” Real in the hearts of parents.

From last year’s experience I tried to take G’s lead, not to step inadvertently on a delight of childhood, but not to mislead her either. Of course school played its part this year. She asked, “Is Santa all dat is Cwistmas?” Is Santa all that is Christmas?

“Absolutely not!” As simply as possible, I tried to outline the Christian tradition. I explained that Santa at his very best, was Love and Generosity. Meaning each and every one of us defined Santa and could play the part.

On Christmas morning, this letter was on the dining room table:

 

Dear G,

This year I heard you’ve asked a lot about me, and I know just how hard it is to explain someone who is invisible yet loves and cares about you. If you’ve ever loved anyone, you have known a bit of me. If you’ve ever shared a toy, you’ve known a bit of me. If you’ve ever looked at twinkling fairy lights or sat by a warm fire, you know a little bit more about me.

Some people say I wear only red and white, and some say my skin is pale, my hair is light. But they have never seen me. How do they know?

I’m dark and light, warm and cool. I believe in love and sharing and goodness. That’s why I come to you, because you are those things, too. No one is perfect all of the time, but I know how hard you try to listen to your teachers and your parents. I can feel it when you tell your friends to be careful or you help them up when they fall. You’re a great kid.

Did you know that lots of people believe lots of things? It’s okay to believe what sounds right to you. This may change, and that’s okay, too. That’s part of learning and growing.

Absolutely everyone throughout the world loves light and gifts! Whether we’re Muslims observing Eid-Al-Adha, Hindus honoring Diwali, Africans celebrating Kwanzaa, Christians worshiping Christmas, Jews commemorating Hanukkah, Chinese giving thanks for Dong Zhi, or the many who recognize Winter Solstice. In each of these celebrations, there are gifts and light in a dark time of year. Maybe you will learn about all of them some day. Your soul is full of light and gifts all by itself.

My elves and I have been listening to you. We love that you like to play, to learn, to create, and to read. Hopefully you will enjoy some of your new treasures. But remember this, no matter what: you have love. You are a lucky girl. Everyone who loves you is proud of you. Be proud of yourself! And have a great year.

Love,
Santa

 

“Did you write dis letter, Mama? Did you write it, Papa? Did you write it, Momo? Momo! Are you Santa? Tell me da truth! Santa isn’ foa real.”

Although I never pushed G academically, as time passed, I attempted to show her a more complex reality. I followed where her curiosity led.

“I believe in sky an’ air an’ angels,” she said. But at 6:30AM on Christmas morning, she announced, “Da stockings are from Santa. Da rest are from everybody.”