San Antonio Express-News (Sunday)
Though the magic fades, the memories last forever
I have two Christmas confessions.
Here’s my first. Back when I was a single mom, I read an article about a company that would, for a fee, write and mail letters from Santa to kids. How magical! When I was a kid, Santa didn’t write letters to us. The closest we came was writing a letter to Santa and having it published in our town’s tiny newspaper, which was fun, but it wasn’t like we heard directly from St. Nicholas.
Still, no matter the price to purchase a letter from the North Pole for my son, I couldn’t afford it. My son and I were back living with my mom, and as a poor college student, it was a stretch just to purchase small gifts for my son to unwrap on Christmas Eve.
But I wanted so badly to make Christmas as special as possible for him. I wanted him to feel the magic — to believe.
So, I logged into my computer and typed out a letter. I rather enjoyed writing in Santa’s voice — maybe a little too much. I fashioned some Christmas letterhead with candy canes and North Pole images in my attempt to get my son to believe Santa wrote it. I can’t remember exactly what I wrote, but I know I told my son about what a good boy he had been that year.
About a day or so after Christmas, Terence, a kindergartner, was in the other room when I heard his voice.
Mom! Mommmm!
Yes?
You. Are. Santa!
I was just as shocked as he was that he found my document. Why did he get on my computer?!?
You’re Santa! It’s you!
There might have been tears — from both of us.
Traditions and memories are what Christmas, holidays and life are made of.
One of my most vivid memories is of visiting my grandma Lucia and grandpa Luis each Christmas Eve. Their home and living room were small, yet we — brothers, sisters, parents, uncles, aunts and cousins — happily crowded in and piled gifts under and around her modest Christmas tree. Most were inexpensive, yet the price of the items didn’t mute our excitement.
We enjoyed the homemade tamales and Christmas cookies that my grandma Lucia tricked us into baking. She would lead us into her kitchen to get us started, then find her way back to the living room while we did the work. It’s one of my family’s favorite memories of her because it makes us laugh.
Some years, we went to church — once, I even nervously read about Jesus’ birth during midnight Mass.
Before we could open gifts, grandma Lucia made sure the cookies were baked and she heard us sing Christmas carols. None of us were blessed with singing voices, but you wouldn’t have known it to see my grandma and grandpa’s faces. Pure joy.
On Christmas Day, my family would visit my grandma Angelita, who lived next door to us. We would take her gifts — usually, aprons and kitchen towels since she enjoyed cooking for us. She was always delighted and grateful for visits, Christmas season or not.
It was a special time that gave way to unforgettable memories. I always look back to those years as some of my very best.
Now, my Christmases are different — still celebrations of the birth of Jesus but with fewer loved ones. My grandparents passed away when I was in college, and other loved ones have died much too early. My son and stepdaughters are all adults. And we have one granddaughter for whom I try to make holidays magical, but she lives in another state and we don’t always get to see her.
So, here’s my second confession: Christmases and holidays can be sad. This Christmas season, my heart aches for the loved ones who have passed away. But I thank God for my cherished memories of a different time — and the chance to make new ones.
I wanted so badly to make Christmas as special as possible for him.