Three Word Wednesday-Mrs.Santa Claus

Three Word Wednesday- Mrs.Santa Claus

Prompts: Abnormal; adjective: Deviating from what is normal or usual, typically in a way that is undesirable or worrying.

Dangle; verb: Hang or swing loosely; [with objective] offer (an enticing incentive) to someone.

Lavish; adjective: Sumptuously rich, elaborate, or luxurious; (of a person) very generous or extravagant;

spent or given in profusion; verb: bestow something in generous or extravagant quantities upon.

           Being from a family of six there were some tough times for my family making ends meet, but my parents always seemed to manage. My mother was a whiz at stretching six ways against the middle, as she always used to say.She was always happy to share what little we had with others. One Christmas we were on the receiving end of others generosity, this is the story of that magical Christmas.

Mrs. Santa Claus

       The Christmas I was nine, my father had been injured at work, in June. He had been working at a plant and was almost killed. A piece of equipment had malfunctioned. Shutting off the equipment, my father had attempted to fix the malfunctioning equipment, but something else went wrong. The equipment came back on line severally injuring my father’s head. After surgery and along hospital stay my father was out of a job. It was nineteen sixty nine and workmen’s safety and protection was unheard of. The worker was blamed for the injury. And yet my father’s head injury had been devastating leaving him with debilitating headaches and a metal plate in his head. My parents lost their house and the doctors advised a milder climate for him, at least that is what he told us children. Hiring a lawyer my father got a mere thousand dollars in compensation. Considering how much my parents owed it was not very much and it went quickly. So they moved from Ontario to British Columbia and rented a house. The place they had picked to live was a rural area. They could have chickens and some land to grow a garden to stretch what dollars my father would make. My father took a job as a longshoreman to earn a living and feed his remaining four children. He continued to suffer headaches even as he struggled to continue working to feed his family. The reason for the linger headaches became clear, as infection spread from his head to the rest of his body and the doctor’s wondered if they could even save his life. My mother beside herself with worry, my father fought hard against all odds to beat an infection that would have killed a lesser man. My mother found herself with four children to feed cloth and house and no income.

       In this rural area and there were no jobs for anyone yet alone a woman with four children and an ill husband. At least her two oldest daughters were in Ontario one lived with her own husband and the other lived with her grandmother. My mother worried about them but they had wanted to stay with their grandmother and continue working at their jobs and living their adult lives. So my mother had said a sad goodbye to them. At least they didn’t have to worry about the roof over their heads. My mother wondered what to do? Where would her children go if they couldn’t pay the rent? My mother enterprising and needful decided to approach the landlady about the holly that needed to be gathered on the property. If she paid my mother and her oldest son to gather the holly, she could save money and get her rent from the work done. Lucky for my mother, Mrs. Weld, a dear soul, knew how badly my mother and her family needed this. Mrs. Weld knew my mother’s pride would not allow her to wait to pay the rent. So Mrs. Weld agreed to my mother’s joy.

        My mother and my oldest brother worked hard and long hours gathering the prickly holly. My brother worked after school and in to the late hours. My mother gathered holly as well as made Christmas cakes, she sold to neighbours for Christmas. This had left exactly ten dollars and fifty cents. Ten dollars and fifty cents that’s all the money my mother had until the end of December to feed four children and make a Christmas. To a woman who always prided herself in making something from nothing, she was heartbroken. What could she tell the children dreaming of presents, expensive toys, they were sure Santa would bring? How was she to tell that Christmas would be like any other day? They’d already been complaining about the eggs at every meal. Thank goodness for the three chickens that fed them. The children were in there now watching the television and the commercials that promised them the expensive toys that were beyond anything in her budget. Her budget wouldn’t extend to any presents .She could knit them some mittens or a hat or both but toys there would be no toys. No Christmas joy? How could she bear to tell them? It broke her heart but she knew she couldn’t put it off much longer. It was the twenty second of December and they had to be prepared maybe if she prepared them it wouldn’t be as bad for them .They were such good children they’d understand she hoped and prayed.

       My mother gathered her children around her sat them down and said          “Children , I know your old enough to understand this. Your father is really ill. They will do everything to make him better. But you know how he hasn’t been able to work and since Mommy doesn’t work, that means we have very little money. Your brother and I gathered holly for the landlady to pay the rent.There isn’t any money for Christmas. None! I’m so sorry.” My mother explained.

     “That’s okay.” I said with all the wisdom of a nine year old child “Santa will bring us what we want you don’t have to worry mommy.” As my younger brother nodded

    “You dummies!” my older eleven year old sister cried, “There is no Santa Claus, there’s only Mom and Dad

    “I hate you are so mean!” I replied and stuck out her tongue.

    “You liar.” piped up my younger brother.

    “Please don’t attack your sister. I have to tell you something. I wish I didn’t have to tell you this, but I have no choice. Your sister is correct there is no Santa. The only presents brought by Santa, are bought by the parents and since your Dad and I have no money there will be no presents from Santa. I’m sorry. You don’t know how this hurts me to tell you this,” my mother told us her eyes filling with tears.

     “No Christmas! No Santa that’s no fair!’ my younger brother and I yelled then seeing my mom’s tears we became quiet.

     “I know it’s hard, but I would prefer if you told no one our situation!’ my mother commanded, her pride sorely wounded.

     “No one? We can’t tell anyone?” we asked.

    “Please don’t tell anyone. We wouldn’t want anyone else to feel bad and ruin their Christmas,” my mother responded.

    “I won’t say anything and neither will you right?” my oldest sister demanded of us.

    “They won’t, they understand how important this is.” my older brother insisted to ease my mother’s pain.

   “We won’t say anything we promise.” my younger brother and I responded reluctantly, not really understanding but not wanting to have our siblings look better than us.
Using my mother’s ingenuity we made Christmas tree cones for a present that evening for our teachers, so that no one would know our situation. We would still give a present to our teachers, lovingly made. A ice cream cone placed upside down on wax paper was what we started with. My mother made icing with green food colour dropped into it to make it green. She put this in wax paper she made into a cone to squeeze out onto the cone. Then we decorated with metallic balls used in baking. We would not embarrass ourselves, or our mother by not having a gift for the teacher.

        My younger brother and I went to school and glumly went about our studies. As others talked about the Christmas they would have, we grew quiet saying nothing as our mother had asked. The other children dangled their candy canes that they had sucked on out of their mouths as we looked on jealous. Our teachers however, seemed delighted with our homemade gifts for them.

       We tried, oh how we tried to be happy, but Christmas without presents? Our father was ill, and our mother worried about money and we had trouble hiding our fears and sadness. Our teachers noted our glum faces, but assumed our father being ill distressed us. Our friends just continued talking happily about Christmas oblivious to our pain. 

       There was a little old lady in the neighbourhood all the children loved Mabel or Auntie Mabel as we called her was always friendly and gave us cookies and smiles. Our parents all knew her and loved the little old lady, who still continued to knit socks for the soldiers though the war was long ago. Mabel stood barely five feet tall, but she was a powerhouse of energy, that put the younger women to shame. She loved the children and missed her own sons, who had died in that long ago war. The children in the neighbourhood were mesmerised by her stories, and loved their time with Auntie Mabel. Mabel’s husband was a quiet man, who loved his wife and enjoyed seeing her interact with the children, but even at ninety-six years old; he went out every day to log and chop down trees. He looked after everything outside the home and Mabel everything in it.

         Auntie Mabel met our school bus the last day of school and told all the excited children of the neighbourhood, that she had permission from their parents to have a Christmas party for them. The party would start now. Mabel knew that there was a lot of unemployment and she just wanted to give the children some joy at her home. And it allowed her to enjoy the children's excitement for Christmas something she sorely missed having no grandchildren. The children in the neighbourhood all went to Auntie Mabel’s house to enjoy hot cocoa and lovely Christmas cookies Auntie Mabel had baked. Auntie Mabel lovingly gave each and every child a present of a bright pair of shiny new wool mittens she had knit for each of them and a lovely Christmas card. 
        Auntie Mabel looked at all the children pleased with her gathering and enjoying the children’s company. She noted with some alarm that my younger brother and I looked sad. She also noted our older siblings were sad too, though they were better at hiding their feelings. She knew our father was very ill, but wondered if she could do something? We answered with no thank you but we were still glum and she knew something was wrong.
      When it was time to for all the children to go home she asked my older siblings if it would be all right if my younger brother and I to stay a little longer to help tidy up. Being polite children they said of course and offered to help themselves, but Auntie Mabel declined and said that we would be sufficient. So off my older siblings went and we stayed behind with instructions to be polite and hurry home. With them gone we got to work cleaning up the party remains. 
      As we cleaned Auntie Mabel asked: “You two are so glum. Christmas comes in two days! You are acting very abnormally. Do you want to tell me something? Is your Dad does not get better?”

      We shook our heads afraid to answer and tell what we were not supposed to.

     “Then what bothers you? Clearly something makes Christmas glum for you two!”

     “There is no Santa!” my younger brother cried, unable to keep the information in any longer.

    “Of course there’s a Santa. Who told you such a thing?”
     I tried to hush my brother but he continued, “We weren’t supposed to tell. Mommy says there isn’t one and there’s no Christmas this year.”

     “There is no Christmas and no Santa.” I agreed realizing that Auntie Mabel already knew, so I wasn’t breaking the secret.

     “You are sadly mistaken,” Auntie Mabel replied.

     We continued to shake our heads in disagreement.

     “Do you think I’m very old?” Auntie Mabel asked.

     “Mommy says it isn’t nice to say someone is old,” I answered drying my tears.

     “Well, I am very old, and that makes me very knowledgeable. I know things a lot of people don’t just because I’ve been here for a while,” Auntie Mabel explained.

     We nodded at this and wait expectantly for Auntie Mabel to continue, “I know there is a Santa for I have seen him. Now I’m not faulting your mother. The good lord knows she’s had a hard time this past year and she wants to do the best for you four children. She’s missing your sisters and worried sick about your Daddy, but there is a Santa. Now I want you two to write a letter right now to Santa and I will see that he gets it in time for Christmas. In fact we will send them straight up this chimney to him.”

      Amazed, I wondered how could putting a letter in a lit fireplace send a letter to Santa?

      I remember asking “How is that possible?”

    “We open and close the damper and they will fly up the chimney,” Auntie Mabel explained.

     My brother nodded happily at this and motioned to me that he wanted to try this.

     “Just remember now, just one thing in your letter. Something you really want. Santa’s had a hard year too. Nothing too lavish,” Auntie Mabel told us.

      I wasn’t convinced, but I realized Auntie Mabel was old and she did seem to know a lot of things, even things my mother didn’t know. I want to believe she was correct and that there was a Santa Claus. Maybe if there was a Santa Claus then maybe Mommy would be happy too. I thought as pondered what I would ask.

      “Now my dears, here is the paper. I want you to write out what you want for Christmas, so I can send your letters to Santa Claus tonight,”Auntie Mabel insisted.

      I wondered out loud if I really should put such an expensive toy down, even for Santa this might be too expensive.

      Auntie Mabel said “Write it down. If Santa thinks it’s too expensive he’ll bring something else”

     So I dutiful wrote and asked Santa for a Chatty Cathy doll. Oh how I wanted that doll. I viewed the commercials and I coveted that doll. I imagined myself pulling the string on the doll and hearing the doll say its catch phrases. I thought about asking Santa to make my daddy well but I knew only God and doctors could do that but I still writer make daddy well in my letter. My older sister persisted in saying there was no Santa but she was my sister and nice to me sometimes, so I felt she deserved a present too so I asked in a postscript to please bring my older sister, a lighted make-up mirror.

     My younger brother was hard at work and asked me “How do you spell hot wheels super track?”

     I told him and then asked “Did you ask for something for Mike?”

    “Oh I didn’t. What do you think he wants?”

    “I think he wants a microscope or a telescope. He really likes science.” I answered.

     My younger brother insisted “No what he really wants is one of those bow knives.”

     He had me spell this and then wrote it down.

   “Are your letters done, my dears?” asks Auntie Mabel

   “Yes,” we answered smiling for the first time since our mother had told us there was no Santa.

     Mabel read the letters over, telling us she checked for spelling errors. She then told us to place them in the fireplace. They burned brightly and we see them fly up the chimney sure they were going straight to Santa Claus.

    “Now don’t say anything to your mother children. Let it be nice surprise for her to find out there really is a Santa Claus.” Mabel cautioned as we bundled up to leave.

     We hurried home to find a surprise. Our Dad was home. He had come home for Christmas. He might have to go back after Christmas but he’s home. Santa had already given her one of my wishes. I was sure now there was a Santa and if this was his only gift then I didn’t care. My dad was home!

      A box had arrived from my older sisters and my grandmother. It was a very big box and maybe because of my age it appeared to be a box of magical proportions. I watched as my mother unpacked it and thing, after thing came out of the box. I couldn’t believe the enchanting things that came out of it.

It contained Christmas! All the Christmas goodies that I thought we wouldn’t see this year. My mother pulled out fruitcake, tangerines, hard Christmas candy and soft chewy ones. Stockings with all our names engraved on them were in there surely from Santa. Even my name had been spelled correctly, an unheard of event. It was a truly magical box and even as I tried not to look, I saw the bulging small toys in my own stocking. A plastic watch with a small doll inside dangled from it. Presents prettily wrapped with our names on it. Christmas had arrived. Mommy was wrong, there would be Christmas. I was sure of it now. Santa would come tomorrow night, he had to!

       Christmas Eve dawned and my mother appeared happy. The toys (that I later found out had been sent by my sisters and my grandmother) as well as the Santa stockings would make us happy, which relived my mother’s grief and guilt. My uncle, my mother’s brother had sent gifts too, so there were many gifts for us. That is what my mother had hoped and prayed for, her prayers had been answered. Now with all these blessings, we would have Christmas.

         Best of all, my beloved father was home and all would now be well. I was sure of this. As sure as nine-year-old can be, when they believe all is right with the world.  My dad had dragged himself and my older brother out early that morning and shot a deer (with a permit of course) and now they had Christmas dinner venison. Not another version of eggs, but meat. Real meat, that none of us had seen for months. He had even carved it up so we were able to store it in the freezer. We would have meat for months. Mom knew how hard it had been for an animal lover like my father to do this, but he had done it for his family and she thanked him for this.

       She placed the stockings out for us, children, and the presents around the tree. Then she had gone to bed to sleep beside my tired father. He really had worn himself out getting that deer being so newly at of hospital. Mom closed her eyes knowing that we had been asleep in bed for hours. My mother was sound asleep when the doorbell rang.

      “Who could be coming on such an early Christmas morning?” She wondered.

        My mother pulled herself up out of bed and threw on her housecoat. She reached the door and threw it open to find no one there, but on the step was four parcels in a box. My mother looked around but saw only footsteps in the newly fallen, crisp, white snow. As she bent over she realized the parcels were addressed to the children from Santa. She brought them in and placed them under the tree. Thanking Santa for his/or her generosity, and she went back to bed. We bounded out of bed at the key time of seven thirty. We had heard the doorbell at five a.m. but had followed the rules and had not peeked, fearing that would chase Santa Claus away. My two older siblings had told us long before that hour to quit asking us what time it was, but they followed wondering what was in that box for them and in their stockings.

       My mother handed us the Santa Claus presents telling us “I was sound asleep at five a.m. when the doorbell rang. I went to the door and found these presents from Santa Claus.”

     I ripped the paper eagerly hoping for the much wanted gift of my Chatty Cathy doll. There before my eyes was the doll and what’s more she had dark brown hair and eyes like mine. Overjoyed I pulled that string so much, my older brother said, “Do you have to?”

     My brother opened his package to see his hot wheel tracks with two cars. He played with that all day over and over again. My older sister who was twelve going on  twenty, found a beautiful lighted make-up mirror with some lip gloss. My older brother opened his present to find a bow knife. He did some whittling with that knife and made small figurines with it over time.

      All of us were jubilant that Christmas. My brother and I were sure that Auntie Mabel, must work for Santa, because she sent letters to Santa Claus and we all had gotten what we really wanted.  That Christmas with the venison on the table, the gifts sent with love from their uncle, their sisters, their grandmother, and from the unknown Santa, was one of the best Christmases they ever had. Not because of the gifts though they were wonderful, but because of the love. The gifts given with no expectation and being together once again made Christmas magical. Auntie Mabel still has a special place in those children’s hearts because one Christmas she returned their faith in Santa Claus.

      P.S. I still have that Christmas card. Below is a picture of it. Each Christmas I take it out and remember my only personal Mrs. Santa Claus. As I celebrate Christmas early this week with my family. I wish you all joy, love, and time with family,  this Christmas season.

©Sheilagh Lee December 7, 2012

Merry Christmas!