Through the Eyes of a Child

    He laid there, my grandson, with a mild smile, eyes closed, and seemed to enjoy falling asleep to me reading, “Twas the Night before Christmas.” 
    Closing the book, I thought back to a time years ago when I had stood, as a child, in my parents’ living room to observe the colors of red, green, blue, and yellow lights reflecting into the various shapes and colored ornaments adding a sparkle to the silver trimmings of the Christmas tree.  The decorating tasks were complete, the stockings were hung by the chimney, but I questioned if Santa would come.  It was a Christmas Eve I wanted to remain home and that year we were having Christmas Eve dinner at my aunt and uncle’s house.  I was hesitant at the door before leaving, plagued with the thought: What if Santa skips my home if I’m not here tonight?
    It was 10:00 pm; I felt relief when I saw my parents and grandma put on their coats to leave my aunt and uncle’s place. I had endured enough from my older cousins teasing me that Santa wouldn’t come this year.  On the ride home, looking out the back window to observe the homes decorated in lights, I drifted into my own thoughts questioning my beliefs about Santa.
    Looking back on that memory, I knew there was a helicopter pilot out there that didn’t realize he’d make a young girl’s vision of Christmas a magical reality.  Passing by the military air strip that Christmas Eve in 1969 in eastern North Carolina, my beliefs of Santa had been confirmed.
    My parents pointed, with enthusiasm, to look up into the cloudy night sky.  My mom asked, “Who’s that, could it be…” and before she could finish I interrupted. 
    “Santa!” I answered without a doubt.  My hands were pressed against the glass, my eyes followed the red flashing light and that moment I knew I was seeing Santa with Rudolph leading the way.  To a young girl’s beliefs, I saw Rudolph’s bright shiny red nose flashing and moving slowly in the cloudy night sky and knew that Santa was heading to my house.  Closing my eyes, I thought of the letter I had mailed to Santa weeks earlier with the hopes of getting not just Barbie, but her friend PJ too. 
    Christmas morning, there was no doubt that he came because I’d seen him on the ride home.  After crawling out of my bed, I peeked around the corner into the living room and could see the multicolor lights of the tree reflecting into the mantle mirror.  The reflection gave a warm glow and highlights to the various wrapped gifts under the tree.  The stockings were bulging and filled to the top.  Gasping for a breath, I hurriedly walked to my brother’s room. Nudging his shoulder, I whispered to him, “Wake up, Santa’s been here!”  He opened his eyes with a gleam to get out of bed.  The family was stirring, including my dad with his camera as I raced my brother to the stockings.  It was a magical Christmas morning knowing Santa came and Rudolph had led the way.

SGW
9-24-10