The Christmas season is a time of high expectations for most kids. They eagerly absorb the magic of the holiday and hold out hope that their wildest gift dreams will come true. Most of us can think of an extra-special Christmas present that awaited us underneath the tree on at least one occasion. I remember the feeling of seeing a brand new bicycle when I was six years old and thinking it had to be a dream.
Some wishes, though, seemed destined to remain a distant dream. Take, for example, the pony phase.
Virtually every little girl on earth goes through the pony phase.
“Mom, can I have a pony?”
“When do I get old enough for a pony?”
“You know what we need? A pony!”
And virtually every little girl on earth hears the standard responses.
“We don’t have room for a pony.”
“Ponies are expensive and they’re a lot of work.”
“You’re not old enough for a pony.”
During my pony phase, I heard them all. That wasn’t going to stop me from asking for one for Christmas, though. I knew I’d keep hearing the same answers, but a girl can dream, right?
So, I took my appeal to a higher power. I wrote a letter to the big guy himself.
Yes, I wrote a letter to the head honcho…the wish-granter…the red-suited miracle worker himself. The MAN.
I can’t be completely certain about this, but I don’t think my letter ever made it to the North Pole. And why would I think this? Well, because I still heard the standard pony responses from my parents and I just knew Santa wouldn’t ignore my request. After all, Santa Claus makes the magic happen, right? I mean, I was a believer! Santa was the MAN! I dutifully left out milk and cookies for him each and every year, and I continued to defend his very existence every time someone tried to make the schoolyard argument that he wasn’t…you know, real.
Well, the years began to go by faster and faster and I had a lot of great gift requests fulfilled (many by Mr. Claus himself, of course). However, my pony had still never materialized. In the end, I accepted it and decided it was probably a good thing. After all, that pony never would have fit in my dorm room in college or in any of the places I’ve lived since then.
A couple of years back, I started thinking about the gift that got away and realized that I still hadn’t heard from the big guy about it. (I still suspected a “clerical error,” and by “clerical error” I mean that a certain parent or two pulled a Ralphie-and-Mrs.-Shields-Style-What-I-Want-For-Christmas conspiracy.)
So, I revisited my thoughts of Christmas past…just because.
I had a little chuckle over it and went about my regularly-scheduled holiday season, which was chaotic, as usual. I went through that season and the next, and here we are in good ol’ 2017.
I’m a band director, and I’ve grown accustomed to spending many holidays with the band at Christmas parades. 2017 has been no exception.
Our first Christmas parade of the season turned out to be quite interesting.
We discovered that our position in the parade lineup was much farther back than we had ever been–next to last entry, as a matter of fact! This meant that we would be waiting (on the coldest day of the year) for a very long time. However, this also meant that we were directly in front of the holiday stars themselves…
Santa and Mrs. Claus.
I noticed their float down the block while I was attempting to keep my toes thawed. Very festive, very Christmas-y. About fifteen minutes before we marched off, their float pulled in behind us. After a minute or two, I heard it.
I looked up, and Mrs. Claus was motioning to me.
(How do you like that? Mrs. Claus wanted to visit with me!)
We chatted for a few minutes (being old frien…umm, new acquaintances and all), and I was just about to return to my post when I brought up an old subject.
I told Mrs. Claus about my unfulfilled wish.
“Say, I asked for a pony sometime in the eighties and it never quite got to me.” Smile, wink.
Mrs. Claus just laughed, and we waved at one another and headed back to our places. Merry Christmas, nice seeing you, et cetera.
About two weeks later, I was in my classroom wrapping up some loose ends before the holiday break…when my phone rang.
“Ms. Garland, you have a package down here when you have the chance to come by.”
“Oh, okay,” I replied.
I haven’t ordered anything lately. Hmmm.
It was a Christmas gift. In a very large bag.
A card was attached. To protect the identity…err, conceal the handwriting, I’ll type out portions of the beautifully handwritten card:
When I spoke to you…my heart was broken that I had somehow missed your request some years ago…I went back to my archives (you should know that I keep every letter from every child!) and I couldn’t seem to find yours…I hope this fulfilled, late request brings some happiness to this year’s Christmas season!
Love, Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus
I opened the bag.
My own pony.
Naturally, we’re making up for lots of lost time.
Christmas wishes can and do come true, even if they’re sometimes a few decades late. Merry Christmas!