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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Inspirational / Uplifting
- Published: 12/29/2021
A Special Christmas Gift
Born 1957, F, from Mesick Michigan, United StatesLights twinkling in hues of red, green, blue and yellow tucked within the branches of our freshly cut tree glow in a dazzling display of color. Red and white stripped candy canes, colorful bubble lights, clear ice cycle, and plastic tea drop ornaments abound its branches. Popcorn and cranberries strung together hug our tree in a warm embrace. Silver shiny tinsel hang lazily from its boughs. Atop the tree stands a heavenly angel made of porcelain. She's dressed in a flowing white gown. Long spiral strands of golden hair cascade around a beautiful smile. This is our Christmas tree nestled in the corner of our tiny living room.
On the south wall stands a red and white brick design fireplace and chimney made from cardboard. Artificial brown logs with red and yellow shaped flames also constructed out of corrugated material decorate the girth of the manmade fireplace. White batting lay atop the mantel for which a beautiful display of cardboard buildings was strategically placed. This was mom's village she so meticulously put together. Red and white Christmas stockings with our names drawn on them with a black magic marker hung with care by push pins on the edge of the mantel of that old faux fireplace.
Mom would tell us, “This is how Santa delivers your gifts. He comes down through the chimney.” We believed her.
Looking to the left is our kitchen. Placed next to a dingy yellow wall is our heavy gray metal table with four metal chairs encased with cushions of tightly patterned yellow flowers. Oh, how I loved that table at Christmas time. Wishes were made and wishes came true at that old table.
The Christmas I will never forget happened when I was 9, my brother Jimmy was 7, Wilbur was 4 and little Dillon was just a baby. I believed in Santa with all my heart. How could I not, when everything I had ever wished for, I received.
December 1st. Always on that day. Not before. Not after, but that day. Mom would softly announce, “Its time.” When we heard those words, we all knew it was time to write our letters to Santa. We stopped whatever it was we were doing and rushed into the kitchen. There, on the table mom had placed boxes of crayons and pencils for my brothers and I to use in generating our individual letters to Old St. Nick.
One day I asked mom why we always wrote our letters on December 1st. She said it was because so many boys and girls were writing letters to Santa, he needed a whole month to read them. And he could make sure his elves made all the toys that the boys and girls wanted.
So, we began our special letters in earnest. Jimmy asked for a baseball bat, ball and mitt. Wilbur liked anything to do with art. He wanted Santa to bring him crayons, markers, paints and “pretty colored paper,” as he called it. And he wanted hot wheel cars.
I began my letter to Santa.
Dear Santa,
My mom and dad say I have been very good this year. I help out a lot with my little brothers. I do my homework when I'm told to. And I help mommy do the cooking, because I like to cook. I only want two toys this year Santa. If you have them, could you please bring me an Easy Bake Oven and a Barbie Doll. But what I want most Santa is a puppy or dog. I have been asking for one all year. Mom and dad say we can't afford to feed an animal right now. It makes me sad, but it's alright. Maybe next year mom will say it's OK. That's all Santa. Say hi to Mrs. Claus. And Merry Christmas.
Love, Sheila
When our letters to Santa were finished mom and dad would help us address the envelopes and put a stamp on them (a real stamp). Once our letters were finished mom would put them in her purse. She would not seal and mail them until the next day. I asked her why she kept our letters and didn't mail them the same day we wrote them. She said it was because maybe as we lay in bed thinking about our letters to Santa, we might change our minds about what we wanted. If the envelopes were sealed, we could not add or change anything. It made sense to me, but my brothers wanted them mailed immediately.
The next morning before breakfast and still in our pajamas we would walk three blocks to the large red, white and blue mailbox on the corner of Stimson and Forth. It was a special mailbox, only for letters children wrote to Santa. The words 'LETTERS TO SANTA' were in big bold letters on the front side of the box.
My brothers had no concept of time. Time crept slowly until Christmas especially for a group of rambunctious kids eager for Santa's arrival. They carried on with their daily routines. Playing boy things. Asking if it was Christmas yet and when Santa would come. I was marking off the days till Christmas on my calendar.
Christmas Eve finally arrived. We were all so excited. We did our Christmas Eve traditions of baking and decorating cookies for Santa and slicing apples and carrots for the reindeer. Daddy read us 'The Night Before Christmas' story. Then we got dressed in our Christmas Pajamas. We knelt down in front of our glistening Christmas tree so mom could take the before snapshot. Then, it was up the stairs and into bed.
I had such a good feeling about Christmas this year. It was difficult to fall asleep. But sleep finally came and so did Christmas morning. I woke up hearing my brothers down the hall yelling at my mom and dad. “Wake up! Wake up! Santa came! Come on! Come on!” Jimmy came running and jumping on my bed. “Santa's been here sissy! Come on! Let's open presents!”
We all sprinted down the stairs. Mom carrying Dillon. Our eyes glowing like wildfire as we eyed over the abundance of presents under the tree. My brothers and I quickly snuggled amongst the packages for the after picture. Meaning after Santa arrived and left all the presents. Then, As was our tradition, we listened as our mom read the story of baby Jesus' birth. Then dad handed out the gifts one at a time. We all watched as each person unwrapped a gift and mom took a picture with her Polaroid camera.
I kept watching as my brothers unwrapped gift after gift. My dad didn't' hand me any of my packages. “This year you are going to be last to get your presents because you are the oldest.” Clearly, he declared. “Let's have the boys enjoy unwrapping their gifts first this year.” I didn't think anything of it, so I whispered "OK."
One by one all of the packages had been opened. There were none left. I couldn't understand. I had been so good this year. Maybe Santa didn't receive my letter. Tears begin sliding down my cheeks. I darted up to my room. My mom hollered up the stairs for me to come back down. Dad wanted to talk to me. Sobbing, I slowly made me way back. I halted at the foot of the staircase. With a red face, nose running and tears blurring my vision I peered at my dad. He tenderly motioned for me to follow him. As I neared the back door, I saw my mom holding the leash of a handsome huge black dog with deep dark brown eyes. I stood stunned. Frozen like an ice cube.
“His name is Sam. He is 3 years old. He's a Black Labrador.” My dad said softly. “Merry Christmas sweetheart.” I ran to my daddy and jumped in his arms. Crying uncontrollably, I hugged and kissed him saying, “Oh daddy, thank you, I love him so much. I will take real good care of him.”
“I know you will.” Daddy said with a smile. “I know you will.”
My mom slowly approached us and wrapped her loving arms around daddy and I joining in our happy tears of joy. I have never been so happy in all my 9 years as I was at that very moment.
He was my one and only precious gift that year. No Easy Bake Oven. No Barbie Doll. But I got the best gift ever. My best friend for life.
I'm a lot older now, seventy-seven to be exact. But the memory of that Christmas stayed with me all these years as did my best friend Sam who lived to the old age of 16. I never married. Never had children. I may be old and feeble now and losing my eyesight, but I still have such precious memories of past Christmas's with my parents and siblings of whom I have loss. I sit in my rocker on cold winter nights during the holiday seasons and picture my childhood home with its charming Christmas tree, old cardboard chimney. And the memories of letters written to Santa.
A Special Christmas Gift(Shelly Garrod)
Lights twinkling in hues of red, green, blue and yellow tucked within the branches of our freshly cut tree glow in a dazzling display of color. Red and white stripped candy canes, colorful bubble lights, clear ice cycle, and plastic tea drop ornaments abound its branches. Popcorn and cranberries strung together hug our tree in a warm embrace. Silver shiny tinsel hang lazily from its boughs. Atop the tree stands a heavenly angel made of porcelain. She's dressed in a flowing white gown. Long spiral strands of golden hair cascade around a beautiful smile. This is our Christmas tree nestled in the corner of our tiny living room.
On the south wall stands a red and white brick design fireplace and chimney made from cardboard. Artificial brown logs with red and yellow shaped flames also constructed out of corrugated material decorate the girth of the manmade fireplace. White batting lay atop the mantel for which a beautiful display of cardboard buildings was strategically placed. This was mom's village she so meticulously put together. Red and white Christmas stockings with our names drawn on them with a black magic marker hung with care by push pins on the edge of the mantel of that old faux fireplace.
Mom would tell us, “This is how Santa delivers your gifts. He comes down through the chimney.” We believed her.
Looking to the left is our kitchen. Placed next to a dingy yellow wall is our heavy gray metal table with four metal chairs encased with cushions of tightly patterned yellow flowers. Oh, how I loved that table at Christmas time. Wishes were made and wishes came true at that old table.
The Christmas I will never forget happened when I was 9, my brother Jimmy was 7, Wilbur was 4 and little Dillon was just a baby. I believed in Santa with all my heart. How could I not, when everything I had ever wished for, I received.
December 1st. Always on that day. Not before. Not after, but that day. Mom would softly announce, “Its time.” When we heard those words, we all knew it was time to write our letters to Santa. We stopped whatever it was we were doing and rushed into the kitchen. There, on the table mom had placed boxes of crayons and pencils for my brothers and I to use in generating our individual letters to Old St. Nick.
One day I asked mom why we always wrote our letters on December 1st. She said it was because so many boys and girls were writing letters to Santa, he needed a whole month to read them. And he could make sure his elves made all the toys that the boys and girls wanted.
So, we began our special letters in earnest. Jimmy asked for a baseball bat, ball and mitt. Wilbur liked anything to do with art. He wanted Santa to bring him crayons, markers, paints and “pretty colored paper,” as he called it. And he wanted hot wheel cars.
I began my letter to Santa.
Dear Santa,
My mom and dad say I have been very good this year. I help out a lot with my little brothers. I do my homework when I'm told to. And I help mommy do the cooking, because I like to cook. I only want two toys this year Santa. If you have them, could you please bring me an Easy Bake Oven and a Barbie Doll. But what I want most Santa is a puppy or dog. I have been asking for one all year. Mom and dad say we can't afford to feed an animal right now. It makes me sad, but it's alright. Maybe next year mom will say it's OK. That's all Santa. Say hi to Mrs. Claus. And Merry Christmas.
Love, Sheila
When our letters to Santa were finished mom and dad would help us address the envelopes and put a stamp on them (a real stamp). Once our letters were finished mom would put them in her purse. She would not seal and mail them until the next day. I asked her why she kept our letters and didn't mail them the same day we wrote them. She said it was because maybe as we lay in bed thinking about our letters to Santa, we might change our minds about what we wanted. If the envelopes were sealed, we could not add or change anything. It made sense to me, but my brothers wanted them mailed immediately.
The next morning before breakfast and still in our pajamas we would walk three blocks to the large red, white and blue mailbox on the corner of Stimson and Forth. It was a special mailbox, only for letters children wrote to Santa. The words 'LETTERS TO SANTA' were in big bold letters on the front side of the box.
My brothers had no concept of time. Time crept slowly until Christmas especially for a group of rambunctious kids eager for Santa's arrival. They carried on with their daily routines. Playing boy things. Asking if it was Christmas yet and when Santa would come. I was marking off the days till Christmas on my calendar.
Christmas Eve finally arrived. We were all so excited. We did our Christmas Eve traditions of baking and decorating cookies for Santa and slicing apples and carrots for the reindeer. Daddy read us 'The Night Before Christmas' story. Then we got dressed in our Christmas Pajamas. We knelt down in front of our glistening Christmas tree so mom could take the before snapshot. Then, it was up the stairs and into bed.
I had such a good feeling about Christmas this year. It was difficult to fall asleep. But sleep finally came and so did Christmas morning. I woke up hearing my brothers down the hall yelling at my mom and dad. “Wake up! Wake up! Santa came! Come on! Come on!” Jimmy came running and jumping on my bed. “Santa's been here sissy! Come on! Let's open presents!”
We all sprinted down the stairs. Mom carrying Dillon. Our eyes glowing like wildfire as we eyed over the abundance of presents under the tree. My brothers and I quickly snuggled amongst the packages for the after picture. Meaning after Santa arrived and left all the presents. Then, As was our tradition, we listened as our mom read the story of baby Jesus' birth. Then dad handed out the gifts one at a time. We all watched as each person unwrapped a gift and mom took a picture with her Polaroid camera.
I kept watching as my brothers unwrapped gift after gift. My dad didn't' hand me any of my packages. “This year you are going to be last to get your presents because you are the oldest.” Clearly, he declared. “Let's have the boys enjoy unwrapping their gifts first this year.” I didn't think anything of it, so I whispered "OK."
One by one all of the packages had been opened. There were none left. I couldn't understand. I had been so good this year. Maybe Santa didn't receive my letter. Tears begin sliding down my cheeks. I darted up to my room. My mom hollered up the stairs for me to come back down. Dad wanted to talk to me. Sobbing, I slowly made me way back. I halted at the foot of the staircase. With a red face, nose running and tears blurring my vision I peered at my dad. He tenderly motioned for me to follow him. As I neared the back door, I saw my mom holding the leash of a handsome huge black dog with deep dark brown eyes. I stood stunned. Frozen like an ice cube.
“His name is Sam. He is 3 years old. He's a Black Labrador.” My dad said softly. “Merry Christmas sweetheart.” I ran to my daddy and jumped in his arms. Crying uncontrollably, I hugged and kissed him saying, “Oh daddy, thank you, I love him so much. I will take real good care of him.”
“I know you will.” Daddy said with a smile. “I know you will.”
My mom slowly approached us and wrapped her loving arms around daddy and I joining in our happy tears of joy. I have never been so happy in all my 9 years as I was at that very moment.
He was my one and only precious gift that year. No Easy Bake Oven. No Barbie Doll. But I got the best gift ever. My best friend for life.
I'm a lot older now, seventy-seven to be exact. But the memory of that Christmas stayed with me all these years as did my best friend Sam who lived to the old age of 16. I never married. Never had children. I may be old and feeble now and losing my eyesight, but I still have such precious memories of past Christmas's with my parents and siblings of whom I have loss. I sit in my rocker on cold winter nights during the holiday seasons and picture my childhood home with its charming Christmas tree, old cardboard chimney. And the memories of letters written to Santa.
- Share this story on
- 8
Marla
12/17/2022Oh, goodness, Shelly! This is good. I was pulled in from the start and loved it to the end.
Happy Star of the Day!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Shelly Garrod
12/17/2022Hi Marla, I'm so happy you enjoyed the story. Thanks for your uplifting comments. They're truly appreciated.
Blessings Shelly
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Valerie Allen
12/17/2022What a nice warm and fuzzy Christmas Story! This is one to bring on a smile ~
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Shelly Garrod
12/17/2022Thank you, Valerie. I always appreciate your kind comments. Thanks for reading. I'm glad you enjoyed the story.
Blessings Shelly
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
12/17/2022Shelly, That was truly beautiful, and no wonder he lived to the ripe old age of 16! Love will do that for a dog...or a person. And yes, when we get in our seventies, we do dip back into those good memories to bring back the wonder of our early years. And Congrats on all your Awards...still creative and writing and adding memories...good on you!
Merry Christmas,
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Shelly Garrod
12/17/2022Thank you for your kind and encouraging words Kevin. You always have a word of wisdom in your comments, and I love that. Wishing you and your family a very Merry Christmas.
Blessings Shelly
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Lillian Kazmierczak
06/01/2022What a heartfelt Christmas story. Not sure who got the best deal, you or Sam! That was great story.Congratulations on short story star of the month!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Shelly Garrod
12/17/2022Thank you so much Lillian. Merry Christmas to you and your family.
Blessings Shelly
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Lillian Kazmierczak
12/16/2022This was such a wonderful story, Shelly. Merry Christmas to you and yours. Congratulations on short story star of the day!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Shelly Garrod
06/25/2022Thanks for you very kind comments. I know, it's a tough one. I loved that dog so much and I know in my heart he had unconditional love for me. I was a little shocked to get star of the month.
Shelly
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kimberly Barnhart
01/13/2022Such a descriptive holiday story! I could really envision the holiday surroundings!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
BEN BROWN
12/30/2021BEN BROWN
I really loved your story. So magical and heart warming. Well done.
COMMENTS (7)