Was There A Santa Claus?

I was so sick. Everything hurt; my body, my arms, my legs, my hands, my feet, my throat and especially my head. Everything I ate caused me to vomit. I couldn't remember ever being this sick before. And I was five years old.
My mother had brought me to Jellico (the nearest town) to see Dr. Prater, the same doctor who was in attendance at my birth. I saw him second only to family members. Sometimes it seemed I saw him every week at least. There was always one infection or another and I was always getting it. Health was never a strength of mine. My immune system was always low.
Dr. Prater told Mother I had a strap-throat and bacterial infection. He prescribed two medications, gave me two immunizations and told her to make sure I drank plenty of clear liquids.
It was the second week in December, so close to Christmas. Jack (my cousin, who was one year older) and I had talked about Christmas all year and what we wanted Santa Claus to bring us. We still believed in Santa (or at least we wanted to); but we were getting very discouraged. Santa Claus didn't seem to know where Chadwell Hollow was (where we lived in the southern Appalachian mountains). He always passed us by. We knew we had to be good all year if he brought us gifts; and we had both tried so hard this year. Maybe he would finally find us. Since he knew everything, we knew if he did remember us, we would get at least one of the things we wanted although we told nobody what that was.
It wasn't like we didn't get anything for Christmas. We always got one of our socks full of stuff. There was always an apple, an orange, nuts and candy; sometimes a tangerine and/or a banana. Then there was usually a small package or two wrapped for each of us. Mother would get us a small toy. So would our Aunt Mary and our Aunt Nancy. Sometimes Ethel Mae (our older cousin) would get us a little toy; sometimes her gifts would be bigger because she would make an article of clothing for each of us. But we usually got our presents in one package, because they all had to go in together to get what they got for us. I remember one year when we got something to wear from Ethel Mae which I was always excited about and looked forward to because we didn't have many clothes and she was a wonderful seamstress. We each got a little plastic car, a coloring book and crayons from the rest wrapped in the same package. That was really a big Christmas to us. We knew we got what they could afford and we were not greedy. But we just couldn't figure out why Santa never thought of us. Or had we been bad all year and was that the reason he didn't come?
Anyway, we had really tried to be good all year. We had spent hours looking at the Sears and Roebuck catalog, daydreaming about what it would be like to own an item out of that catalog. Although there were several things we really liked, I think we both secretly liked one thing more than everything else. There were these little cowboy/cowgirl outfits and Indian outfits. I couldn't decide between the western hat, vest and skirt; and western boots (although they were sold seperately) and the fringe dress with tassels and the headband and sandals of an Indian princess. Jack liked the western hat, boots, pants, shirt and vest which was the cowboy's outfit. But we dared not say anything about them because we believed Santa might bring them only if nobody else knew about them. It was our secret with Santa. If we got those outfits we would know Santa had finally found us. If not, then we knew he had forgotten us again, or we hadn't earned them.
It was not an ideal time for me to meet Santa. But as we walked up the street from the drugstore, there he was on the street corner. He was real and as big as life! You must remember that I had never seen anyone dressed up as Santa Claus before except in pictures. We had never even owned a television (didn't even have electricity). But I knew he had to be Santa Claus because he was dressed just like the one in the Sears and Roebuck catalog. And I wondered what he was doing on the street corner when he was supposed to be at the North Pole getting ready for Christmas Eve.
I hoped he didn't see me because I didn't want him to think of me as sick. I wanted him to think of me as a happy girl who would be so happy with whatever he wanted to bring. But I really didn't want to meet him because it was so strange knowing he knew what I wanted for Christmas and had never found me worthy before. It would be just too weird.
But it was too late. He had already noticed me. "Hey, little girl, come over here a minute," he called and he was looking right at me! "Yeah. You. Come over here. Ho,ho,ho!" I looked at Mother, trying to figure out a way to escape.
"It's okay," she told me. "Go on. I'm right here. It's okay."
I shyly walked over to the giant in the red suit. I was just a bit scared. After all, I knew he knew everything there was to know about me. Was he checking me out so he would know where to find us to bring our Christmas presents?
He offered me a candy bar with a picture of him on it. What kind of bribe was this? And why wasn't there one for Jack? I knew he had to know about Jack. And I didn't feel right taking the candy bar if there wasn't one for him. Was he trying to say we wouldn't get what we wanted?
I turned and started to walk away. "Don't you want the candy bar, little girl?" He called.
Mother walked up to us. "Your little girl is shy," he said.
"She's never seen Santa before except in pictures," Mother told him. "I think she's confused. And she's not feeling well. We've just seen the doctor."
"Oh, well, maybe she doesn't really feel like eating candy then. She can take it for later."
"You hear that?" Mother asked. "You can take it for later."
"No!" I said.
"No? Why not?"
"Mother, he doesn't know my name. I've wrote him letters and he doesn't know my name! I'm nobody to him. But you said Santa Claus loves all good little boys and girls."
"Of course he does," Mother said. "He remembers names from the letters and where you live. He just doesn't know it's you. But he's offering you a candy bar. That won't be your real present."
"Then why didn't he give me one for Jack?"
Santa asked Mother what the problem was. She told him I had a cousin who was at home. He asked why I didn't take the candy.
"Because you should know about Jack," I told him. "I don't want a candy bar unless there's one for Jack, too."
"Ho, ho ho. Well, we'll just have to take care of that, won't we?" He pulled another candy bar from his bag and offered me two. "Here's one for you and one for Jack. Okay?"
"Thank you!" I took the candy bars. I'd have to tell Jack all about this special meeting and give him a candy bar from Santa himself! He'd really be surprised.
"And what do you want for Christmas?" He asked me.
"I can't tell you."
"You can't tell me?"
"I already told you what I want in my letter and it's a secret between you and me. Jack wrote you, too. Please don't forget us this year."
"I promise I won't," he told me. He looked at Mother. "You have the most unselfish daughter I ever met."
"I think so, too," Mother answered. "She'll be talking about this for a long time."
"I have a feeling she'll get what she wants for Christmas."
"We try."
"Merry Christmas!" He said, then turned away to talk to another child and we left.
I had to tell Jack everything about Santa and give him the candy bar he sent him. I was all excited about the fact that he promised to visit us this year. "Don't be silly," Jack told me. "It was just a man dressed up in a suit. He won't bring us anything. Don't you know there isn't a Santa Claus?"
"There is, too!" I cried, my world crashing down around me. "How do you think he knew about you? He even sent you a candy bar!"
"You probably told him about me. Or Aunt Lula did. That's why he sent it."
It was true and it really hurt. Was Jack right? Was it just somebody pretending to be Santa? Was that why he didn't know our names or where we lived or what we wanted? No! I didn't want to believe that. Wouldn't Mother know if it wasn't him? But if he let me down this year, then I'd never ask him for anything again.
I was beginning to think Jack was right. There was no Santa, and if there was he didn't care about us. Maybe we were just not good kids. But I would give him this one last chance.
So I dreamed about Santa coming down our chimney and bringing us each a present for Christmas. If hoping and day-dreaming could make it happen, it would. I was not going to stop believing. But if he wasn't real, I knew I would not be able to make him real no matter how much I daydreamed and hoped; and no matter what he had promised me.
Christmas Eve I hoped so hard. I kept hoping it was Santa's sleigh bells I heard every time I heard a noise. I couldn't sleep because I kept expecting to see him come down the chimney. I hoped with all my being.
But, alas, he didn't come. There was no special cowgirl or Indian princess outfit waiting for me and no cowboy outfit waiting for Jack. So I had to admit Jack was right. There either wasn't a Santa Claus or he just ignored us. But that was okay, too. Our gifts might be small; but they were gifts of love and it was Christmas and we were all together and that was all we really needed to make it a Merry Christmas.