I recently came across a photo of me sitting on Santa’s lap. It was 1981 and I was 3 1/2. Of course I have no recollection of taking that photo but I do remember the Sears department store downtown very vaguely but fondly and with a bit of wonder. You would never know if now, the building and the street are desperately deserted and lonely, but back in my early years the Sears downtown was bustling and modern, especially at Christmas. The window displays were elaborate and splendid, filled with Christmas and Fairy tale scenes. They were mechanical to boot, the shop windows would come alive for the month of December, a magical mannequin circus.

My favorite scene was The Princess and the Pea. The prince in his plumed hat and billowing sleeves, the princess with her long and flowing golden hair,Image perched atop her twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds, all in slow-motion gestures I didn’t understand, all bathed in silver and gold and sparkling snow. I know there were at least two more extravagant scenes but not one stuck out in my mind. I would stand outside, mesmerized by their dance, imagining I was the princess, taken in and found to be of royalty. I wanted to be found.

My mother would take me inside to shop around through “the magic staircase” as I called it because we would walk into the stairwell and be spat out onto another floor of shiny new things. Once particular floor contained the Secret Santa shop where kids could go and pick out some useless bauble for their parents to open on Christmas Day. I loved to give them gifts.

There’s no trace of that place now. It lives in my head where it will surely one day be lost. The times of the fond and fuzzy carefree holiday has gone by the wayside. Here I am, ten o’ clock on Christmas eve, alone in my fluffy blue bathrobe, snug in my bed with my dog and a glass of wine. I cherish these moments too because this time is all I have. I long for a family of my own, new traditions and memories, someone to share my life with. So much that my heart aches terribly sometimes. But now is all I have. The whistle of the trains and the whisper of the freeway in the distance. My dog by my side, an occasional sigh and stretching out  against my leg. Tomorrow is Christmas Day, a gift of another day as the sun rises and shines and moves me forward. Forward is all I have. It’s all I need.

I am grateful.

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