Writing Assignment 1:Epiphany writing: Santa is coming

    Finally after what feels like the longest bus ride home ever, we pull up to the street I have been walking Eric and myself to the bus stop since August, Fresno Lane. I can’t believe it is finally here, the week of Christmas! Not having to go to school for a whole week felt like it took a lifetime to get here.  Eric even seems to understand the amazing week ahead free of school even though this is his first winter break. Mr. Curry is outside trying to look like he is not struggling with the two inches of snow that has fallen since this morning. “Hey boys, you ready for Santa?” he asks, taking a break from his shoveling. My brother being only 5 blurts out, “YES! And my mom said I could put out extra carrots for the reindeer!” As he replied he began to jump up and down with excitement. Great, now it will be really hard to keep him calm while I do my homework until mom comes home. He will probably rattle on about the reindeer all afternoon.  “And what about you, Benny?” Mr. Curry asks with a wink toward my direction. “oh yeah, I can hardly wait” I try to hide my excitement because, as his wink implied, no 9 year old boy should believe in Santa, but I really do. Me, Benjamin Stone, a fifth grade boy who still (secretly) believes in Santa.

The last time I talked about it with anyone except Eric and mom was in Mrs. Well’s third grade class, and that ended with me getting made fun of the whole school year. But you see, I don’t believe that he is a guy with a suit who jumps down your chimney with a sack, but I think he is more of a wizard, a magic guy. And plus, last year, I swear I saw something Christmas Eve outside the window.  I mean, how else can you describe the hoof pounding and sleigh bells jingling and the cookie crumbs and nibbled carrots left every year? And the other physical proof, the toys! The glorious piles of toys each stacked neatly for each of us boys and the bulging stockings. Mom could never afford all of that, especially after dad left. She always tells us how she has had to put in extra hours the last two years just to pay all the extra November and December winter bills that come. No, I write Santa a letter with my wish list and he gets me almost everything every year. The other kids my age probably just know it’s their parents because they don’t believe in Santa anymore.

The sound of the garage door opening and Eric screaming, ”Mommy is home”  jars me from the long division homework I have been half paying attention to while he watched his afternoon cartoons. It must be 5:30. My mom stumbles in the door with a huge ham and a few groceries in her arms. Christmas dinner! “Ben, will you help me get the last bags of groceries out of the trunk please?” she says as she heaves the cut of pork into the fridge. “Yes Ma’am!” I say without hesitation. I can’t believe we get to spend a whole week together as a family. We haven’t done that since dad left.

I open the trunk and grab the couple bags with my left hand and as I hoist them out a couple apples roll out into the back of the trunk. I grab at them with my free hand and accidentally pull the bag full of my mom’s dry cleaning with it. As I try to put it back something catches my eye. An electric guitar and amp in a bright red box?! Oh wow! That’s exactly what I wanted! And look, the Power Ranger action figure Eric has been obsessed with the last two months! Suddenly, fear takes over and I push the bag back concealing the presents and look to make sure my mom hasn’t seen any of this. Whew, she didn’t and I am safe! I walk back in the house with the groceries and tell mom how excited I am about getting to spend time together this week. She seems to buy that my excitement is only about the time off.

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It is finally Christmas Eve! I help mom by doing the dishes so she can give Eric his bath and get him tucked into bed. I can’t wait till he is old enough to start doing chores. Mom walks in and kisses me on the forehead as I finish the last dish and tells me she has a special surprise for me in the morning. I try to act surprised and then go into my room for the difficult task of falling asleep while I wait for Santa.

At 6:30am, mom comes into my room and whispers to me “I think it’s your turn to help me jingle and wake Eric”. I groggily stumble toward the family room to see the table with milk drank and cookie crumb. I start to get excited. Before I can say or do anything my mom shoves a string with bells on my hands as she starts hurriedly nibbling on a carrot saying “Oh I almost forgot about these!” She motions to me to start shaking the bells, which I do, as she pounds her hands on the wall and stomps her feet loudly. She then throws the half eaten carrot on the table, grabs the bells from me, and runs to her room. Moments later Eric bursts into the living room, “he came, he came, Santa came!” But I can’t react; I have been staring at the piles of presents I see glistening beneath the tree. As I take steps toward them the sinking feeling in my stomach grows. A red box with a guitar and amp is atop my Santa stack and the Power Ranger is on Eric’s. I start to slowly realize what I should have two years ago in Mrs. Well’s class, he is not real.

Mom comes out faking a yawn, “wow, looks like Santa might have had some help this year” she says as she nods knowingly at me. Did she not know? Does she have any idea what she’s done? She ruined the last thing that a 9 year old boy still believed in.