In my mind, I think back to the memories of my childhood. Of course there's a special place that hold all of the wonderful Christmas memories I have. My Dad loved to make sugar cookies and we couldn't have Christmas without them. I remember the year that my Mom injured her cornea. She was able to take her patches off right before Christmas Eve and so we rode around looking at Christmas lights while she cried in gratitude for her sight. I'll never forget the Christmas Eve that my sister and I had a fight. I woke up at 5am Christmas morning thinking "She'll never come in and crawl in bed with me like she always has done". Then I saw the light under her door and next think I knew she was bounding in my room and jumped under the covers while we waited for Mom and Dad. Of course there was the annual pageant with each of us dressing up to perform the story of Christ's birth. My Mom was a wiz at turning a towel into a Shepard's head scarf. One of the most magical memories I have is that of visiting Santa. I remember heading out to the mall, all of us dressed in our most festive attire. We sang carol's all the way and stopped to deliver our sugar cookies to friends along the way. Once we got there, I can remember the smells of the season... cinnamon, hot cocoa and fellow shopper's perfume. I see us walking towards Santa's house and seeing the lights, hearing the music and getting butterflies in my tummy. As we approached, there was Santa's elf ushering us up to his chair. Santa, arms open wide, welcomed us and gave us his undivided attention as we expressed the desires of our little hearts.
Is that really how it happened or has my adult mind glorified the memories? My experience as the Mother instead of the child is quite different...
We head out to the mall with Daddy mumbling in the back ground that it's absolute Highway Robbery the amount of money they charge for one 5x7 photo. Once in the car, the arguing begins as to what we are going to watch on the car DVD - of course I win because "darn it we are going to listen to carols and enjoy them!" We arrive at the mall and can't find a parking space and once we find one, someone swoops in front of us and takes it without another thought. We enter the mall, shoulder to shoulder with hurried shoppers and smells of body odor. We are now in a race because the faster you walk to Santa's house, the less people are going to get in front of you. As we approach, Santa's elf stands, hand out to request your hard earned cash while telling us the wait is two hours. In line, the first hour isn't so bad but how much can you really expect out of the little ones in your life? The whining starts, I'm telling them not to cry or they'll have red eyes for the photo. FINALLY, we are at the threshold of Santa's chair. He says "Next", slightly grumpy from too many chin pulls and soggy diapers on his knee. He quickly poses the kids for the perfect shot. Then askswhat they each want, never understanding their requests, and hustles them out the exit. Stunned and glassy eyed, the little ones say "I just want to go home".
Is this how they will remember it? I hope that with time, their minds eye will forget the long lines and grumpiness. I hope they too will transform the experience into one of magic... and in case they do and come to me as a parent and "Why isn't like when I was a child" I took these pictures to show them the truth.
