The First Lie

ShanonWrites

         My grandparents took me with them on a Christmas shopping trip to Windy City! I had never seen so many tall buildings, so many window displays, so many people. We stood in line to see Santa. He was busy! Every time we got to another store, there he was again.    

         We zigzagged our way up through crawling escalators, and out of the huge department store, stepping out onto the crunchy snow. So far, I had seen Santa five times. When we turned the corner, I saw Santa again! This time, running! I tugged on Grandpa’s sleeve, pointing. Grandpa, forever my partner in crime, said with a twinkle in his eye, “Let’s follow him!” I handed Grandma my Winnie the Pooh bear and started running after Santa through the streets of Chicago. But he was fast. But then, so was I, for a kid. Just before he turned the corner Santa glanced back and I caught his eye.  

         Was he waiting for me? Maybe he’d give me my Christmas present early. Or a trip on his sleigh to his workshop?  He swirled around kicking up a fluff of snow as he headed for a parked delivery truck. 

          “Hello?!?” he bellowed, banging on the back panel of the truck. I wondered who was in there. Elves? Reindeer? Mrs. Claus? 

              It suddenly flew open, like a garage door. My feet froze in the snow as I came to a stunned stand-still. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There were over ten Santas, all dressed alike, in all heights, sizes, and shades. I blinked hard. Why are there so many? Am I dreaming? Grandpa caught up to me. I looked up at him imploringly. What had just happened? I began to tremble. My world suddenly made no sense.  

        “What. Is. That?”, I squeaked out, thinking aliens or Chicago mobsters had duplicated Santa in some horrible holiday revenge. Grandma arrived behind us, stepping daintily through the snow in her low heels. I saw Grandpa give her a strained look. She took in the scene, bent down to hand me Pooh Bear, looked me in the eye, and said, unquestionably, “Well, those are Santa's helpers. In a big city like this, you don’t think he could do it all on his own, now do you?” Grandpa bobbed his head in confirmation.  

          I dropped my eyes to the snow, taking in this new information, then snuggled my face into Pooh Bear’s ear and whispered, “Don’t worry. We know Santa’s helpers are elves, but like she said, in a big city, he needs grown-up helpers. Santa is still real.”  

     I tucked Pooh Bear under my arm, took Grandma and Grandpa each by a hand, and plodded back up the sidewalk, three from the four of us, changed forever.

     It is better to lie than to dash the dreams of those you love.