The Night Santa Didn't Come.........
I was eight when mother, Nan and I boarded the train in our small home town for a visit to Gram's, for the Christmas holidays. We had not seen Gram or Gramps in two years so we were all excited.
Money was scarce, as usual, so Dad had insisted we go without him, even though, mother had the money for a fourth ticket. I could tell she didn't want to leave him at home but, what could she do? He wouldn't even take the money for the ticket, in case he needed it for something. We left, satisfied, that Dad would be fine, spending the holidays with his brother and his family. And, anyway, Dad knew how intent mother was about the trip, for she had pinched pennies, here and there, when at all possible, throughout those years, saving for this special trip.
How was she to know the economy would take a dip and the mill where Dad had worked for years would shut down leaving him and others to fend for themselves, surviving on the salaries of odd jobs the townspeople offered.
However, the trip and Christmas were foremost on my mind and the sorrow I felt at leaving Dad at the train station soon diminished just as the excitement of seeing my grandparents and the train ride increased.
Company came by the number that Christmas and after a hundred hugs and smiles, we all settled in for some long-awaited conversation and Gram's home cooking. Of course, she'd had help in preparing it, Gramps saw to that.
"What's Santa bringing you this year?" My cousin, Sally, who was also eight and whose parents had more money than Fort Knox, asked.
"Well, I just don't know," I answered hesitantly. Of course, anything would be good.
"Do you think there really is a Santa?" She further jabbed at me.
Why was she asked these questions? They made me feel very uncomfortable for someone had already mentioned that there might not be a Santa, at school.
"Of course, there is," I answered. But, inwardly, I wondered.
"How would he know where to bring your presents, anyway," she continued. "I doubt he even knows you're here." Well, she had a point there. At least, I could think that way.
Christmas Eve night I lay awake wondering if Santa wuld come and if so, would he come to Gram's.
Sally had gone home the day before and somehow I was glad. I wished Dad was there for things didn't seem as bad when he was around.
We awoke to a cold Christmas Day. Under the tree were presents for Nan and me from Gram and Gramps. We had nothing for them as she insisted our visit was our gift to her. However, later, we discovered Mother had sneaked in a little figurine from the dime store and wrapped it up for her.
I don't mean to sound greedy, but, the socks and mittens we received from Gram were a far cry from roller skates and dolls and such.
Gramps took us to the train that day, told the ticket master we had an extra box and asked him to take care of it for us. We knew it was goodies, such as peanut brittle, popcorn, cured bacon and such, from our loving grandparents.
We pulled into the station, after a silent trip home. Passing by the bank, we noticed it was a different color. It was more of a slate blue than the beige it had worn for so many years. Everything else looked the same.
Dad, a smug look on his face, met us at the train station and was silent as Nan and I jabbered away about our trip and the people we'd seen and wondered why he wasn't there.
I thought nothing of it when Dad parked our old car and rushed to open the front door of the house, before we had time to even close the car doors.
He greeted us as we entered the house, a gigantic smile on his face.
Beneath the now, dry and withered, Christmas tree were dolls, tea sets, and the roller skates I had asked Santa to bring. Nan could have the dolls as I was, at heart, a tomboy and cared nothing for them. That is, until Mother made me play with her.
Nan turned white. I don't know whether I did or didn't.
Dad had tossed his hat on the couch. "You see, girls, Santa didn't know you two were at Gram's," Dad explained. "I would have told him, but, didn't want to scare him off. See? There is a Santa." He took a bow and gestured with his arm to the tree. "Please, be my guests."
We giggled and went to the tree. After a second thought, before we'd even touched a thing, we ran and gave Dad the biggest hug.
Nan and I were ecstatic and satisfied that there, indeed, was a Santa but, we never did understand why Dad chose not to accompany us on that trip to Gram's.
It had been a few days and Mother was separating the clothes to be washed. "Come help me, girls," she called from the back porch.
Nan and I did as we were told and the first thing that caught my eye was Dad's work shirt. It had splotches of slate blue paint on it.
Dad?