Magic
December 15, 2022 at 12:42 p.m.
Lois didn't care what other people said, she believed in the tooth fairy, Santa, and all that other magical stuff
...by Lois Greene Stone
“Not so far that she can’t get here when that tooth comes out,” my mother replied.
“Hm. Good.” I made short movements with my tiny fingers to hasten the ejection. “What happens if Santa comes the very same night as my tooth is under a pillow?”
“They won’t come at the same time,” my mother answered and nodded her head, noting she was positive.
“Well I am going to stay up all night and see Santa, but I’ll hide a little so he won’t see me and leave too quickly. I’ll sit on the stairs and listen for him. Then I’ll just peek into the living room and run up to my room before he sees me!”
On Santa night, I sang songs and did twirling dance-steps I made up. My mother played the piano, and we gathered around. The crepe paper outfit she’d designed allowed me to feel quite special, and I was able to wear my Mary Jane patent leather good shoes. All of the relatives ate food it took her all day to prepare, and we celebrated her twin brothers’ birthdays on the 24th of December. They didn’t comment about my crepe paper but liked my dancing.
My flaxen hair had been cut very short as the barber said that would make it grow in thicker; there was not enough to clump up to hold a crepe paper big bow. I didn’t like being propped on a board in that man’s shop, and I think he was used to boys’ hair anyway, and the big cape covered almost all of me. Older sister had hair thick enough to braid. I don’t think she had to go to that barber shop!
The kitchen had so many dishes and pots piled up; would my mother be up all night washing and drying them and Santa wouldn’t come because she wasn’t asleep? Maybe Santa’s helpers would magically wash and dry and leave only piles of clean plates and silverware! If he had enough elves, that wouldn’t delay getting to the next house now, would it, I wondered?
The twin uncles opened their birthday presents. The little sterling things my mother polished that held cigarettes for everyone was getting lower; my dad, who didn’t smoke, got up and filled it. I had candy shaped like a cigarette and the tip was even colored red as if it were real even though the whole thing was sugar.
Why won’t everybody go home so Santa can get to our house before he gets too tired? My baby sister was already in her crib, so didn’t all the family think they should leave! Finally I was sent upstairs to get into my pajamas.
Some neighbor said Santa doesn’t exist. How would she know just ‘cause she didn’t ever see him for real. I turn a button on the living room’s big radio and voices come out, sometimes talking ones and sometimes singing ones. And if I don’t like what I’m hearing, I can turn a button next to the ‘on’ and a different voice or music comes out at me. I just can keep doing that and when I’m tired of hearing anything, I can turn the thing the other way I first did and everything inside that box gets quiet. Isn’t that magical? I don’t see these people in that radio but they exist. Exist. hat is a really grown up word. Daddy’s car also has this magic radio, and it is right inside the car by the front!
Sitting in a great room my parents said was a theatre, I saw a man pull a real rabbit out of his hat. And when he pulled a scarf from his pocket, more and more and more of those just kept coming out. It was real. Tooth fairies are real. Santa is real. Don’t grownups know anything you can’t see is real?
I woke my older sister so we could sit quietly in the middle of the staircase; we weren’t so far down that Santa could know we were there and weren’t too far away from our rooms if our parents heard and we had to run to our beds. I don’t think I fell asleep, but I never did see or hear Santa sliding down our chimney. When I tugged my older sister’s arm and we tiptoed down the rest of the flight, we could see filled stockings hanging from where we’d put those very same ones empty, and the floor in front of the fireplace filled with wrapped presents.
How did I feel when I found out that magic was an illusion, the tooth fairy had been my parents, and Santa wasn’t an actual human who could service the entire world in one night? Privileged I had the chance to believe that for a brief time in my life.
Lois Greene Stone, writer and poet, has been syndicated worldwide. Poetry and personal essays have been included in hard & softcover book anthologies. Collections of her personal items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different divisions of The Smithsonian. The Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History’s current ‘Girlhood’ exhibit has a large showcase where Lois’ photo represents all teens from the 1950's; her hand-designed clothing and costume sketches are also displayed.
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