My Habitat Harmony: The Gift

When I was about six years old, I believed in all kinds of things: Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, leprechauns, unicorns, and of course Santa. My parents didn't start me on this path of belief, it just happened. Though they didn't encourage these ideas, they didn't outright tell me that these things were fictional.

I guess they didn't want to harm my imagination by telling me they weren't real. Either that or they didn't want me to think that my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins had lied to me about this stuff. Whatever their reasons, they let me hop, skip, and jump believing these folktales and magical creatures existed.

Out of all these fairy tale creatures and magical beings, Santa was the big one. He was the guy that made sure that good kids got gifts on Christmas morning, even if their parents didn't have the money to get them presents. As a child with parents that struggled to feed us, this was great news. All you had to do to get a gift was be good. That was something I could do.

Before I go any farther, I want to warn you, this is a story about the death of belief. Specifically, the death of my belief in Santa. I know, real bummer, but bear with me, this story has a happy ending.

I was six years old, in a grocery store with my mother when I spotted Santa. My first thought was one of awe. Never in my six years of living did I believed I'd see Santa in Lucedale Mississippi at Wayne Lee's Grocery store. This was a huge deal (that's probably why I remember it so well).

Of course I sat in Santa's lap, like all the other kids did. He asked me if I'd been good. I answered yes. He asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I didn't hesitate to answer. I wanted a Woolma Lamb doll. For those who don't know, Woolma Lamb was a character from the cartoon show The Get Along Gang. I LOVED that show.

So I told Santa what I wanted and he said, “You've been a good girl, you'll get it.”

Long story short, guess what? I didn't Woolma Lamb. My parents couldn't afford it, but in my six year old mind, I believed that the gift was from Santa. It didn't matter if my parents didn't have the money for it, Santa said I could have it. He was going to get it for me.

Well, now I know that's not how it works, but at the time my little heart was broken. Mom apologized for not being able to get me Woolma. She tried her best and later got me a little stuffed lamb, but it wasn't the same. I didn't get the gift because the magical gift giver didn't bring it. He lied...well, someone did.

My mother broke down and explained why there was no Woolma waiting for me under the tree. You may not agree with this, but it is what it is. A grocery store Santa assumed that because my mom heard my request, she'd buy the gift. It was an honest mistake that led to my realization that Santa wasn't real.

Fast forward twenty-nine years to December 23, 2014. I'd had one heck of a day. The day started out overcast. I went to visit a friend and I dropped my ceramic coffee mug full of tea on the sidewalk, breaking it to bits. Then it started raining and I had a bad feeling things would get worse. Shortly after, I dropped some presents in the mud while I tried to open a gate. And just like I suspected, the day went downhill from there. By the time I had to go to my writing group meeting, I was ready for the day to be over.

Because of the weather and the holidays, not many people showed up to the meeting. There were just three of us there. We chatted and read, and believe it or not, that made the day feel so much better.

Later, another member showed up with a present. I thought she was bringing it for our group leader. Turns out it was for me.

Gift giving is great, but gift receiving makes me feel uncomfortable. I'm not sure why, it just does. So when they slid over the box, I just wanted to disappear. They insisted that I open it right then and there. I reluctantly did so. I took my time and drew it out as long as I possibly could.

Guess what? It was Woolma Lamb. I had to run out of the room because I started to cry. I would have never in a million years expected that getting that doll would have this effect on me, but it did. When I got back I held her and cuddled her to me. It was like I was six all over again. I'm crying now just thinking about it.

Opening that gift fixed something that had been broken since I was six and holding that doll is like holding my childhood. There is no gift I could ever give to Tia and Amanda that would be equal to what they'd given me. None.

And right when I was on cloud nine, they told me to look in the box again. There at the bottom was my favorite childhood book, Twiddlebugs at Work. I loved this book so much, I wore the cover down to shreds. It was the first book that made me really think about the lives of the creatures around me. It made me realize that the animals on the farm had families too.

Unfortunately, like so many things from my childhood, my book had been lost while moving. It lived on in my heart and memory, and I had accepted that. Oh, but my lovely friends had not.