It was Christmas Eve. The mom was putting her kids to bed, not knowing if she should tell them that there is really no Santa, that it is just a fantasy - a made-up story with no real evidence. Her kids, aged 5 and 3, had heard about Santa at school, and, she feared, had hopes in their hearts of receiving surprise presents on Christmas morning - presents she had no money to buy. Ever since her husband had left her two years ago, all she could afford was to have a place to live and put three square meals on the table each day. While the houses in her neighborhood were decked up in charming Christmas ornaments and lights, she did not even have a Christmas tree. Worried and exhausted, she closed her eyes for the night.
She woke up at the crack of dawn, hearing what she thought was a thud outside the front door. "Who is it?" she called out nervously. Silence. Scared and cautious, she tiptoed to the door and opened it. There, lying at her feet, was a woven basket covered in bright red cloth, with the words "with love, from Santa". Hands trembling with surprise, she lifted the cloth. Inside, was a cute little stuffed puppy wearing a Santa hat. In its mouth was a small card with the words "I belong to Hazel". Hazel was her three-year old daughter. Beside the puppy, she saw two tiny stuffed monkeys, one with a bow on its neck saying "Mike will play with us". Mike was her five year old son. Her joy knew no bounds and she was almost in tears. She started to bring the gifts inside. But wait, the basket still felt heavy. There appeared to be one more item inside. Under a panel at the very bottom, carefully packed, was a bright red ladies' purse. The kind she had always admired, stared at in shop windows, but never had the courage to ask the price.
"These gifts are perfect", she thought, bewildered. "But who could it have been?" The kind priest at the church? The kids' kindergarten teacher? The jolly young man next door who often asked how she was doing? Or perhaps, just perhaps, as legend would say, Santa had noticed how good she and her children had been this year, how hard they had worked? Perhaps then, he had read from their hearts those desires they had never written down, and decided fulfil them? She was too afraid to ask anyone, she would never know. But somehow, she was glad she didn't tell her kids there was no Santa. For today, it was a time for them, and for her, to believe in fantasy.
She woke up at the crack of dawn, hearing what she thought was a thud outside the front door. "Who is it?" she called out nervously. Silence. Scared and cautious, she tiptoed to the door and opened it. There, lying at her feet, was a woven basket covered in bright red cloth, with the words "with love, from Santa". Hands trembling with surprise, she lifted the cloth. Inside, was a cute little stuffed puppy wearing a Santa hat. In its mouth was a small card with the words "I belong to Hazel". Hazel was her three-year old daughter. Beside the puppy, she saw two tiny stuffed monkeys, one with a bow on its neck saying "Mike will play with us". Mike was her five year old son. Her joy knew no bounds and she was almost in tears. She started to bring the gifts inside. But wait, the basket still felt heavy. There appeared to be one more item inside. Under a panel at the very bottom, carefully packed, was a bright red ladies' purse. The kind she had always admired, stared at in shop windows, but never had the courage to ask the price.
"These gifts are perfect", she thought, bewildered. "But who could it have been?" The kind priest at the church? The kids' kindergarten teacher? The jolly young man next door who often asked how she was doing? Or perhaps, just perhaps, as legend would say, Santa had noticed how good she and her children had been this year, how hard they had worked? Perhaps then, he had read from their hearts those desires they had never written down, and decided fulfil them? She was too afraid to ask anyone, she would never know. But somehow, she was glad she didn't tell her kids there was no Santa. For today, it was a time for them, and for her, to believe in fantasy.
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