How tiny we were on Santa’s knees. Yet I don’t remember a thing beyond what I was told. The inability to remember our lives before a certain age must be a sort of protection mechanism devised by our brains to forget the days when our safety was the realm of “others” and we were allowed little to no agency. No wonder kids throw tantrums.
The nightgowns were unforgettable tho. Abrasive lace trimmed the wrists and neck, and the fabric would bunch and twist, turning our tiny bodies into fingers caught in a Chinese trap. It was our first little-girl flavor of bondage.
Santa was my mainstay - the only man who came back when he said he would and left the next day.
I come from a Christmas mom. She could take the scary and make it magical. Tinsel on a dead tree still diamonds the light when in the exhale of a heat register.
My belief in Santa demands as much explanation as my incredulity of God. But I do believe in Santa.
He is power and understanding.
He is softness of beard.
He is callousness of ever-judging finger.
He is firm boundaries and gentle ear.
All now with the voice of Seth McFarland.
Santa walks alongside the Reindeer, only being pulled by them on December 24th. The eyes of summer reindeer are viridescent. But the eyes of winter reindeer are blue as the arctic twilight. A blue that allows the reindeer greater ease of finding food and protection from predators. The wolf that once stood shrouded by snow is now a predatory contour of darkness.
Unwary as they are, it would still be tough to study the eyes of reindeer without enucleation. And there is no scientist Santa who sits at his desk and surveys displays of reindeer eyes where snow globes once stood.
We outgrow knees. Many outgrow Christmas.
But here I am with a smattering of memories and a post-snowblower silence.
People who are wealthy should marry those who are poor, and people who love Christmas should partner with those who do not. Jim is adamant about his dismay of Christmas, yet he found a unique artificial tree that curves like a cartoon and doesn’t exacerbate my allergies. Then he strung it with multi-colored LED lights that sync up with music - not Christmas music tho as I only play that when he’s work. So he synced it up to his favorite band and a very metal Christmas we shall have.
Where once I compulsively watched Christmas movies until my own life paled in comparison, now we watch hockey and wait for Santa to show up in a ruby blast at the glass. His coat as rich as the fresh blood from a leaking noise. Jim and I are the reindeer with their adaptive eyes, bending towards each other to create a new Christmas color.
Thinking Christmas #1