Christmas, 1997. Little two year old me
At Grandma's smelly house, making sugar cookies,
When the doorbell rang, long and loud.
Who could it be?
Its Santa! Big and round,
With a fake beard and soft new red suit.
The Man, the Myth, the Legend.
This 'jolly' man handed me a box,
wrapped in shiny green paper with angels on it.
But I was more focused on this stranger...
A holiday story I have never fully believed,
And he was standing right in front of me!
Why didn't he come through the fireplace just downstairs?
Why didn't I hear the click of reindeer on the shingles above?
But little dumbstruck me couldn't squeeze out a single word.
Too late! He was gone,
Leaving me with my questions and a box full of art supplies.