I have a myriad of wonderful memories of Christmas as a child. There
were hundreds of joyous moments from driving around Christmas light watching
with our dad, to the varied antics of the Pryzgoda family. This part of the
story is not about any of that! This part is about the gifts my sister got that
I envied.
That’s not to say that I didn’t get some amazing gifts from Santa. Oh,
that’s right. I never mentioned how Christmas presents work in our family. We
actually always celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve. This way, those with
significant others could spend Christmas Day with their spouse’s family. In the
case of Sam and me, we spent Christmas Eve with the Pryzgodas and then
Christmas day with the Clelands.
So on Christmas Eve, right about the time dessert was ready, everyone
would come to our large living room and sit around laughing and opening
presents from one another. Now this was all well and good, but Sam and I both
knew that the BEST presents came from Santa. Santa was the one that got us the
bikes, the rollerblades, the Xbox (even though by that point we knew no big,
red guy was toting around a bag of Christmas gifts). It was tradition, though.
Family got us cool stuff and clothes. Santa got us the awesome stuff that we’d
been wanting all year.
I’ve been amazed and grateful to our mom since I found out there was no
Santa Claus. To think that every year she was able to find the ONE thing that
both my sister and I wanted SO bad, and then not even take credit for it when
we started screaming with joy on Christmas morning? That is some dedication and
every parent deserves to be appreciated for letting their child hang onto that
magic for as long as they can.
I’m getting distracted though. This story is supposed to be about envy!
Not warm and cozy feelings!
So onto the envy. This particular year, envy came in the form of a full
sized, McDonald’s play-kit with built in drive thru and fake French fries that
really crackled when you put them in their plastic fryer. It was amazing.
Beautiful, even. Sam and I had come hurrying downstairs this particular
Christmas and there, smack-dab in the middle of the living room, was the
coolest thing we’d ever seen along with a giant red bow and a note from Santa.
“For, Samantha. From, Santa.”
Fuck, Samantha. Fuck, Santa. At least I imagine that’s what I would
have thought if I had known how to appropriately use the F-word at that time.
I stood in shock, Sam started screaming for joy and ran towards it. I
honestly don’t remember what I got that Christmas from Santa. I am certain it
was amazing and exactly what I wanted, but whatever it was it paled so much in
comparison to Sam’s gift, it has been completely wiped from my memory.
Let’s be clear here. I was way too old to be playing with this toy, but
that didn’t mean that I didn’t want it to be mine with every part of my being.
I watched Sam longingly as she set everything up and put on her little apron
and McDonald’s visor that even had a plastic headset built in for “drive-thru
orders.” Grandma was up cooking eggs at the time so the flock of our family
members had begun groggily wandering downstairs like extras in Night of the Living Dead to get their
morning cup of coffee.
Every single one of them stopped to observe Samantha in the middle of
the living room cooking fake French fries. Our mom eventually made it
downstairs and sat on the couch to smile and absorb the joy of Christmas
emanating from her daughters. It was soon after that Aunt Kathy and Laura came
in too. Laura scooched across the carpet on her knees and “pulled up” to the
plastic drive-thru window to give Samantha her first order while Kathy sat in
one of the easy chairs near Mom.
Kathy had a grin on her face and she idly glanced over to our mom, “I’m
glad to see Santa is preparing her for her future.” My mom just gave Kathy a
look and Aunt Laura burst into laughter and so did I. That was the first time
I’d ever understood sarcasm and after hearing that comment from our wonderfully
cynical aunt, I felt better. Thanks, Santa!
