A Christmas Story in Ipswich
After a lovely walk in Christchurch park we were going home, but suddenly my elder boys remembered: “What about going to Santa’s grotto?” I hoped they would forget as I was so tired. “You promised”, they insisted. I was surprised at their enthusiasm. They seemed quite big boys to me. They were eight and seven. As for the baby, his opinion remained unknown, as he was eleven months old.
Reluctantly I went to Co-op. Second floor, on the left. A few days earlier I had asked a sales-assistant what was required to get into it. It turned out, nothing. Just come and join the queue. So we came and joined the queue. The baby got tired and was about to make a fuss, but a tiny girl of two saved the situation. “Little baby, little baby”, she clapped her hands and danced around like a butterfly. Life is full of surprises. One might meet a person even smaller than the tiny girl. The baby watched her and cheered up.
It’s our turn to get in. Suddenly my big boy reads distinctly and loudly: “Please do not forget to purchase a ticket”. What ticket? I start panicking. But there’s no time, and we just go in. We stare around. In the twilight we see dwarfs nodding their heads and reindeer ready for a ride. All is covered with glittering snow. I notice Santa surrounded by boxes with presents. The tickets! We have none!
Santa is talking to a small girl, asking her gently about her little interests, and the girl is shining with happiness. Then she gets a present and leaves the grotto.
It’s our turn for an interview. I feel so ashamed that I want to disappear. Why have I come here without the tickets, wasting Santa’s time? I whisper to the boys: “You’ll get your presents on Russian Christmas, on the seventh of January.” They look so miserable. I did not expect that at all of such big boys. Santa is about to start a conversation, when I whisper into his ear: “I am awfully sorry, but we have no tickets. I did not know…They’ll get their presents on Russian Christmas, the seventh of January.” Santa is surprised. Are the boys in front of him Russian? Yes, they are. Are all of them mine? Of course, they are mine. He asks them a few simple questions with such a genuine interest, that they melt and tell Santa about everything, their eyes sparkle, their cheeks glow in delight. What an amazing Santa! Santa asks me about Russian Christmas. I explain that we celebrate by Julian calendar. Santa nods understandingly. Then to my astonishment Santa gives each of the boys a present, wrapped in beautiful colourful paper. The baby grabs his present quickly as a magpie and holds it tight. I am speechless. I try to utter a word but in vain. Such kind eyes are looking at me through the spectacles, and such a gentle voice says: “After all, it’s Christmas.”
We leave the grotto and blink in the bright light. We are overwhelmed. We put the presents quietly into the buggy. Suddenly it occurs to me that I may pay now. The cashier receives the payment indifferently, but it does not matter. We have just seen Santa and that’s all that matters.
“If anyone ever says that Santa does not exist…” I say. My boys look at me so happily that I do not finish the sentence.