Vonnie (Yvonne Blake) is our lovely and loving hostess for Fiction Friday this week. Drop by My Back Porch to read her story about a different kind of turkey, plus follow links to more original writing. And don't be shy - add your own link!
The Year the Magic Died
Memories...
A tiny me, sitting in my big sister’s lap. She’s saying, “Santa
brings us presents on Christmas because that’s how he celebrates Jesus’
birthday.” I wonder at the logic of that, and decide it makes sense.
A slightly less tiny me, sitting in my big sister’s lap. She’s
explaining, “Mom’s handwriting is on the tags because Santa doesn’t label them. But Mom knows who the presents are for, and
she puts tags on them.” I don’t question
that answer. It makes sense to me.
An excited little me, snuggled in bed with my big sister. She’s
hushing me. “Santa has a lot of houses to visit, and a lot of presents to
deliver. How can his sleigh hold them all? He came early and put some of ours
in the storeroom. Now be very quiet so he won’t know you hear him. Pretend you’re
asleep.” And pretty soon I was.
A little bit bigger me, in the den with my big brothers. One
of them brags, “I bet we can guess what Santa is going to bring you for
Christmas. We’ll write it down to prove we’re right.” On Christmas day, we all looked,
and their predictions proved true for both my little sister and me. At first I
was amazed, then I grew skeptical.
A slightly older and taller me, in the den with my big
brothers. One of them confides, “Our Christmas presents are in the
storeroom.” I knew I shouldn’t, and I
didn’t… for a while. But then I did. I snuck in and I snooped. And then I knew
the truth. I mean, I kinda knew before, but now I really knew. And on Christmas morning, when I saw those
same presents under the tree, I felt like the magic of Christmas died.
An even bigger me, huddled behind closed doors with Mom.
“Will you help me wrap some presents?” She knew that I knew, and the magic of
Christmas was reborn as I gleefully and giddily wrapped presents from “Santa”
for my little sister. Later that night, we read one of my favorite Christmas
storybooks about animals at the Nativity. On Christmas morning, I smiled when I sat that “Santa”
had added my name to a couple of the tags on my sister’s presents.
And the real magic of Christmas lived on.
