It was Christmas Eve of 1958. I was six years old. I’d
woken up in the dark to pull up my covers closer. The wind was
howling as the tree branches smacked against my window.
“Dear God, please don’t let Santa freeze tonight,” I prayed. I
prayed for everything. Sister Mary Matthew, my first grade
teacher, said this was a good thing to do. Just as I finished my
prayer, a blazing light shot across the sky. “Was that Santa?” I
sprang out of my bed to see. The girls at school were spreading
rumors that Santa wasn’t real. “Wait until I tell them I saw his
sleigh.” I smiled and scooted back under the covers.
The next morning, my four-year-old sister, Pat, woke me
early. She’d already gone down the stairs and peeked under the
tree. She was bouncing on my bed screaming for me to “Wake
Up! Wake Up!” I was rubbing my eyes when I noticed there was
white stuff on my bed. It looked like snow. How did
that get here? There were footprints on my carpet too. We
followed the prints down the stairs, through the dining room and
into the kitchen. That’s when we saw it.
“Uh–Oh! Somebody is in big trouble,” Pat said seriously.
There were cookie crumbs all over the table and the
floor. Gran’s favorite Irish tea cup from Donegal was on the
table too. We were never allowed to touch that cup in case we
broke it. It was a treasured possession all the way from Ireland.
My little sister’s’ high chair was pulled up to the table. Three
phone books were on the seat. What the heck was going on?
Mom and Dad came into the kitchen as we chimed in, “We
did not do this! And we didn’t touch Gran’s tea cup either.” We
swore. Mom was looking at us with a doubtful expression when
my dad said, “I used it last night.” Oh he was so brave to admit
that! Pat didn’t care…”Lets open presents!” she shouted. My
dad said, “Okay if you don’t want to hear about the elf that was
here last night, go right ahead.” I couldn’t believe my ears! An
elf?!? An elf was in my house?!?! Tell me! Tell me!”
Dad said he was driving home late from work when he saw
something moving in the snow. He thought it was a dog, but as
he got closer, he was shocked to see it was an elf. “He was
pretty scared. His leg hurt really bad so I took him to Doc
Morrison and he put a cast on it.” I had so many questions.
“Where did he come from? How big was he? What was he
wearing? And why didn’t he wake me up?” “I did try to wake
you up. You wouldn’t wake up. You didn’t even feel him kiss
your cheek.” This was too much for me! “I’d been kissed by
and elf?” Wait until I tell the girls at school!
Dad continued to weave his tale. “Blitzen must have leaned to
far to the left and the elf just slipped off. I guess he didn’t notice
and kept on flying with the other reindeer. The poor little guy
was so scared when I found him.” “What was his name?”
Mom suggested we open some presents and talk more about
the elf at breakfast.
At breakfast, Dad talked more about Charley, the elf. He told
us how he rode on our new dog, Towzer. “Dad,’ I said, ‘elves
don’t ride on dogs.” “Well this one did.” Then he had some tea
and cookies. He loved snickerdoodles! Blitzen came back for
him at two a.m. I heard a tapping on the window. Boy was I
suprised to see a big reindeer at the window. Charley was so
happy to see him. I helped him back up onto Blitzen. He gave
me a big hug and said, “Thank you, Jimmy. I’ll try to stop by
again next Christmas. You have yourself a Merry Christmas.”
Later that afternoon, my dad was falling asleep on the couch
with the Christmas lights twinkling. I leaned over the top of his
head so we had upside down faces. I kissed his forehead and
whispered, “This was the best Christmas of my whole life.” He
smiled and said, “Mine too, Anne, Mine too.
Some gifts you just can’t buy in a store or online.
Merry Christmas everyone!
p.s. This tradition has continued with all of my sisters and our kdis. Every Christmas Eve we buy 10-X Confectioners and dip a dolls foot to make the prints. My Dad is smiling in Heaven every Christmas Eve, I’m sure.
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