For as long as I can remember, I have made a Christmas tradition of staying up as late as I could, so that I could see Santa in his sleigh.
When I was little, mom would put me to bed, reminding me that Santa wouldn’t come for as long as I was awake. She’d leave the room humming “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and turning off the light. As soon as the door squeaked close, I would grab my flashlight and make my way to the window.
Most Christmases, I would get tired and go to my bed where I would lie down and say to myself that I would listen for him. A couple of Christmases, I woke up next to my window with a blanket over me. A note from Santa reminded me that my bed would be more comfortable than the floor.
As I got older, I thought of a better tactic. The family would go to sleep, and I would stay up. The flashing Christmas tree lights would make the living room a dance of light and shadow. I would make a hot chocolate, turn the Christmas music on low and wait in front of the tray of cookies, carrots for the reindeer and milk. Soon I would find my eyes getting heavy, and when I woke up, the cookies, carrots and milk would be gone. Another note from Santa would be near my head.
Santa was just faster and a great deal sneakier than I ever gave him credit for.
One Christmas, not too long ago, I finally gave up trying to see Santa in his sleigh. I decided that I would go camping for Christmas. I rented a cabin in the Alaskan wilderness for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
I made the trip north in my little car. The roads were slick, but I got to the trail without any problems. I unpacked all of my gear, loaded it onto the sled I had brought with me and started down the trail to the cabin.
It was beautiful. The trees were covered in white. The fresh snow on the ground made it seem as if I were the only person in the world who had ever walked that way before. I even saw a couple of moose and a white fox.
I had hiked for a couple of hours when I decided to stop and take a food break. I put down my pack, took out some jerky and bread and ate. With every breath, a cloud came from my mouth. The sun was setting, and the night would get cold quickly.
I put my pack on and heard a loud crack behind me. I turned just in time to see the water of a nearby stream rising fast. I reached for my sled not realizing that the water had already reached the toe of my boots. The ice and water were slippery, and I fell into the stream as my sled was swept away by the greater forces near the center.
I had to make it to the cabin, or I would freeze. I had some supplies in my pack; I just hoped that there was some firewood at the cabin.
I made my way down the trail as the shadows got longer. Frost formed on my eyelashes; ice formed on those wet spots that had fallen in the stream. My steps were getting slower, and my breathing was getting heavier. I had to keep moving.
The night brought a full moon reflecting off the snow. I could see the cabin in the distance. Hope made my steps lighter. I was going to make it.
I went up the wooden steps and onto the porch. There was no wood stacked there. I opened the door and entered the cabin. I went to the wood stove. In a box next to the stove was a bit of tinder and small sticks – nothing that could keep a fire going. I sighed, set down my pack and pulled out my only log – one of those grocery store logs that is supposed to last 3 hours.
I shivered as I lit the log. I would have to find a way to make the kindling last until morning. I started my little stove to boil some water. I pulled out my cocoa and remembered warm Christmases past.
Then I heard something strange – like a herd of moose, except moose don’t normally travel together. I looked out the frost-covered window and couldn’t see anything in the dark. It must have been my imagination.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” The door to the cabin opened, and there stood Santa Claus.
I could only stutter as my chattering teeth made speech unlikely.
Santa closed the door and opened his pack. He put several logs next the stove and a gift wrap package on the bed.
Then he came over to me, a twinkle in his eye.
“You’re a little early this year.” I gave him a little smile.
“From the looks of things, I’m right on time. Ho! Ho! Ho!” I laughed with him.
“Sorry, I didn’t bring any cookies and milk with me…” I shrugged and noticed that the cabin felt a whole lot warmer.
“That’s okay, my boy. I’ve got a long night ahead of me. Just a little conversation and some of that cocoa will do just fine.” We had a pleasant conversation. He finished his cocoa, and we wished each other a merry Christmas.
As he went out the door, he said, “You’ll want to open that package tonight.”
“Yes, Santa.” The door closed, and I went to the package. Inside was a change of clothes and a small but very warm sleeping bag. I got out of my wet things and snuggled up inside the bag.
I heard in the night, “Merry Christmas, my friend, and have a good night!” As I drifted off to sleep, I realized I had missed another opportunity to see Santa in his sleigh.
When I was little, mom would put me to bed, reminding me that Santa wouldn’t come for as long as I was awake. She’d leave the room humming “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and turning off the light. As soon as the door squeaked close, I would grab my flashlight and make my way to the window.
Most Christmases, I would get tired and go to my bed where I would lie down and say to myself that I would listen for him. A couple of Christmases, I woke up next to my window with a blanket over me. A note from Santa reminded me that my bed would be more comfortable than the floor.
As I got older, I thought of a better tactic. The family would go to sleep, and I would stay up. The flashing Christmas tree lights would make the living room a dance of light and shadow. I would make a hot chocolate, turn the Christmas music on low and wait in front of the tray of cookies, carrots for the reindeer and milk. Soon I would find my eyes getting heavy, and when I woke up, the cookies, carrots and milk would be gone. Another note from Santa would be near my head.
Santa was just faster and a great deal sneakier than I ever gave him credit for.
One Christmas, not too long ago, I finally gave up trying to see Santa in his sleigh. I decided that I would go camping for Christmas. I rented a cabin in the Alaskan wilderness for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
I made the trip north in my little car. The roads were slick, but I got to the trail without any problems. I unpacked all of my gear, loaded it onto the sled I had brought with me and started down the trail to the cabin.
It was beautiful. The trees were covered in white. The fresh snow on the ground made it seem as if I were the only person in the world who had ever walked that way before. I even saw a couple of moose and a white fox.
I had hiked for a couple of hours when I decided to stop and take a food break. I put down my pack, took out some jerky and bread and ate. With every breath, a cloud came from my mouth. The sun was setting, and the night would get cold quickly.
I put my pack on and heard a loud crack behind me. I turned just in time to see the water of a nearby stream rising fast. I reached for my sled not realizing that the water had already reached the toe of my boots. The ice and water were slippery, and I fell into the stream as my sled was swept away by the greater forces near the center.
I had to make it to the cabin, or I would freeze. I had some supplies in my pack; I just hoped that there was some firewood at the cabin.
I made my way down the trail as the shadows got longer. Frost formed on my eyelashes; ice formed on those wet spots that had fallen in the stream. My steps were getting slower, and my breathing was getting heavier. I had to keep moving.
The night brought a full moon reflecting off the snow. I could see the cabin in the distance. Hope made my steps lighter. I was going to make it.
I went up the wooden steps and onto the porch. There was no wood stacked there. I opened the door and entered the cabin. I went to the wood stove. In a box next to the stove was a bit of tinder and small sticks – nothing that could keep a fire going. I sighed, set down my pack and pulled out my only log – one of those grocery store logs that is supposed to last 3 hours.
I shivered as I lit the log. I would have to find a way to make the kindling last until morning. I started my little stove to boil some water. I pulled out my cocoa and remembered warm Christmases past.
Then I heard something strange – like a herd of moose, except moose don’t normally travel together. I looked out the frost-covered window and couldn’t see anything in the dark. It must have been my imagination.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” The door to the cabin opened, and there stood Santa Claus.
I could only stutter as my chattering teeth made speech unlikely.
Santa closed the door and opened his pack. He put several logs next the stove and a gift wrap package on the bed.
Then he came over to me, a twinkle in his eye.
“You’re a little early this year.” I gave him a little smile.
“From the looks of things, I’m right on time. Ho! Ho! Ho!” I laughed with him.
“Sorry, I didn’t bring any cookies and milk with me…” I shrugged and noticed that the cabin felt a whole lot warmer.
“That’s okay, my boy. I’ve got a long night ahead of me. Just a little conversation and some of that cocoa will do just fine.” We had a pleasant conversation. He finished his cocoa, and we wished each other a merry Christmas.
As he went out the door, he said, “You’ll want to open that package tonight.”
“Yes, Santa.” The door closed, and I went to the package. Inside was a change of clothes and a small but very warm sleeping bag. I got out of my wet things and snuggled up inside the bag.
I heard in the night, “Merry Christmas, my friend, and have a good night!” As I drifted off to sleep, I realized I had missed another opportunity to see Santa in his sleigh.