Dear Santa

Dad was suffering his usual Sunday morning migraine following a very late night. 

Christmas was weeks away and I wanted the latest G.I. Joe and some other stuff that dad needed to know. This was important information for talking to Santa as he did every year. 

Dad grabbed some coffee and sat at the kitchen table. I talked while he massaged his temples. I laid it all out - cost, location, and availability.

“For-chrissakes, will you stop,” Dad erupted.

“I just want to make sure you have what is needed. I don't want another last year."

"What, wait, what was wrong with last Christmas?" 

"Well, I get an alarm clock and pair of socks."

"He is doing his best."

"Really?"

“Goddamnit, grow up! Do you really still believe all of this? Give it a rest. Why do you think I work everyday? Do you think money grows on trees? I am Santa, the Easter Bunny, and every damn character that gives you gifts! You’re eight years old, you should know better! You're too old to act like this."

    

My stomach dropped. He touched my shoulder, but could find nothing more to say. I knew he was worried about Mom’s reaction. 

I tried to dismiss everything. Mom had always called him an idiot, but I always ignored it.

I had always wondered how other kids got so much whether it was Easter, tooth fairy, Christmas or whatever. 

I grabbed my coat and ran outside, the door slamming behind me. I wrapped the coat around my body to account for the missing zipper. Dad's duct tape plan was ill-conceived.

I sat on the picnic table watching my breath. Mom would be upset, so I wouldn’t be a tattle-tell when she picked me up. I didn’t want more fighting.

Suddenly I no longer wanted anything. I was a fool. I now knew the real reason others enjoyed more rewards.

I always wondered why other kid’s parents were often working or busy when my family was always home in front of the tv. All that crap about being good because Santa was watching. The only thing Santa was watching right now was the coffee going into his mouth. 

I was overwhelmed with thoughts going one way and then another. I now knew why the freaking tooth fairy was a no-show. Mom always said we moved too much. And all that talk of receiving Easter goodies was nothing; who ever heard of the Easter Bunny running out of treats?

Occasionally, Mom took me to church where I was forced to listen to preachers expound the merits of God and how those that followed would be rewarded, but would they? I looked at mom and grandma, where were the rewards?

Mom never complained, but she had nothing and seemed so unhappy. We lived in a mobile home along with riding the bus while others had actual houses and cars.   

The cold air stung my ears as I leaned back. I made a decision - would no longer wish for things, expect nothing. The future is within my reach and control. I returned inside as Dad was asleep on the couch with a bottle of Tylenol nearby. 

    

I walked into the bedroom where my things lay in the corner. The JC Penney Christmas catalog was opened to the appropriate page and the letter to Santa was neatly composed. I felt like I should cry, but I didn't.

    

I crumpled the letter and pushed the catalog under the bed. The days of circling items and wishing gone. I stared out the window as his snores echoed. I grabbed my math book and decided to tackle schoolwork until Mom arrived. I wanted to call her now but Dad wouldn’t want to walk to the telephone booth and Mom would question leaving early. 

    

My daze was broken by a honking horn. She was in her boyfriend’s Malibu. I collected my things and hurried to the door, waking and telling Dad good-bye in one motion. He watched me leave in a daze.

    

I jumped in the car with the book in my lap.

"So, how was your weekend with Mister Wonderful? What did you guys do? Anything happen?"

"Nah, we watched Clint Eastwood movies, ordered pizza, popped popcorn, cleaned out his shed and went bowling."

"Always bowling and could he learn to cook? Do you know he took our only car to Cincinnati when you were born? I had to get a ride from Joy."

"Yeah, I know, but it was an important tournament in Cincy." I had heard it all before, so I made a joke to end it.

She laughed and looked at my book again, reaching over and patting my head and saying “Santa will be so proud of you!” as we sped away.