11 minute read
MOUNTAIN MAGIC with Ann Hite
I’ve been wondering lately if anyone even believes in mountain magic anymore. It sure doesn’t seem that way. Back when I was a little girl, everyone was open to the mystery without examining the why. Now magic could slap us in the face, and we wouldn’t notice. You see I get caught up in the nonsense of everyday living like others.
Most folks that know me, know I had a very eccentric mother. You never knew what she might do next. That made life somewhat hard on a young girl, but the one time you could count on Mom was at Christmas. Each year something miraculous happened and my real mother was whisked away and a shiny new Christmas mom replaced her. The transformation always happened right after Thanksgiving.
Mom began the holiday season with a fresh cut tree and a decoration party for my younger brother, Jeff, and me. She baked—the woman didn’t do this any other time of year—banana bread, cut out sugar cookies, and lemon pound cake. The tree had a million lights on it and just as many ornaments.
Even the year my dad abandoned us at Granny’s house, Mom put on her best smile and gave us a Christmas to remember, knowing full well her kids needed a joyous season as much as she did. I believed in all the Christmas magic the mountains could offer. And I still do this time of year.
The year I turned nine, I was so rooted in this magic, I could burst. I gave Mom my list for Santa. On it was every new Barbie that had emerged since the year before. Jeff was three-years-old and had to be helped with his letter. He wanted a GI Joe and Matchbox cars. Mom took the envelopes and promised to mail them to the North Pole from her work.
The days ticked by slowly. Each one seemed like four. Nine days into the month of December was my birthday, which was celebrated with a coconut cake and small Santas riding sleighs across the frothy icing. What I loved most about this birthday was the fact that only fourteen days were left before Christmas.
When Christmas Eve finally arrived, I woke up at six in the morning too excited to sleep. I shared a bedroom with Mom and Jeff because Granny’s little house only had two. Mom and Jeff shared a double bed, and I had a twin right under a window that allowed me to watch the night sky fade and turn to the gray dawn. Honestly the best Christmas Eves had fat fluffy gray clouds threatening snow. None of that bright sunshine and warm temperatures.
Mom kept us busy that day. We went to see whatever Christmas movie that came out at the local theater. As the day wore on, I kept a watch on the time. Before long we could go to bed, and Santa would come. And on that Christmas Day my dreams would come true. I didn’t think about how Mom would turn back into her old self, worried and sad. I thought of the wonderful gifts.
As Granny’s old coo-coo clock struck six that evening, I begged to eat supper and go to bed. After all, it was dark out.
“You can’t go to bed this early. You won’t sleep through the night.” Mom laughed. “Remember if you’re not asleep Santa won’t leave toys.”
And that was the greatest fear of all. The second fear was Santa would see Granny wasn’t asleep. She liked to stay up and read. Her bedroom was right beside the living room. Her whole house was connected with no hall, one big L-shape. I always wanted a hall almost as much as I loved Christmas morning.
“You two can stay up until 9:30 tonight since it is a special night.” Mom smiled as she served us supper. Now this was a woman who was a stickler for bedtimes.
“No. We can’t stay up that late, Mom. Santa might skip our house.”
Granny gave me one of her looks. “Annie, it will be fine. He won’t come until you are asleep.”
“Granny, you got to promise to go to sleep early too,” I said to her.
She shook her head, hiding a smile. Christmas magic was at work.
Finally, I was allowed to go to bed. I crawled between the covers as the floor furnace near my bed clicked off and on. I put my pillow on the windowsill and watched the stars twinkling in the now clear skies. Santa would find us. Wouldn’t he? I promised myself I would only pretend to sleep. Part of me wanted to hear Santa so I could tell my friends, who didn’t believe in his existence. Silly little fools thought their parents put toys out. That couldn’t be because Mom didn’t make enough money to buy us the kind of toys Santa brought. Somewhere along the way of trying to stay awake, I dropped off into a deep dreamless sleep.
When I woke up, the house was dark and silent. Mom breathed hard in the bed next to mine. The furnace clicked on and off. What time was it? Had Santa come? I tried to count to one hundred but lost track. Maybe I would just slide out of bed and check the time in the living room. If Santa had come, I could glance at the toys he left. The trick was I had to get past Granny who was like a bloodhound on the scent of a rabbit when it came to kids roaming around the house at night. I inched out of bed, holding my breath. Mom had a new routine of taking a pill before bed to help her sleep. This gave me an advantage to make a clean getaway.
The problem with an old house—and this house was built at the beginning of World War II—was they creaked and moaned with each step a person took, even a young girl of nine.
I had two choices, I could crawl through the bathroom or Mom’s sewing room, formally called the back porch even though it was completely enclosed and heated. Either route I took, I had to crawl through Granny’s room to reach the living room where the clock hung on the wall and of course Santa would have left the toys. I chose the shortest, direct route, through Mom’s sewing room. The floors here were the creakiest, but I managed to make it out of the bedroom with Mom quietly snoring and around the floor furnace without sounding any alarms.
The threshold of Granny’s room yawned in front of me. Only the weakest of light came through the window from a streetlight. I had to crawl a short distance to make it to the living room. But Granny was as alert as Mom was out of it. I figured she slept with one eye open. I eased into Granny’s bedroom, making sure I stayed low to the ground so she couldn’t see me from her high four poster bed. One, two, three, four movements—I couldn’t call them steps because I was on my hands and knees—and the living room door was within reach. I paused and listened. Of course I couldn’t hear Granny breathing because I didn’t believe that woman took a breath after dark.
One, two, and I reached the door to the living room. Home free.
“Annie Mae, get yourself in bed right now. What do you think you’re doing crawling through the house.”
I stayed quiet hoping she would think she was dreaming.
“Now.”
I stood. What was the point of crawling anymore. “What time is it?”
“Too early for you to be going into the living room.” Granny said this in her no-nonsense voice.
I walked back the way I came.
“Don’t get out of bed again until your mama wakes up.”
You see, the problem with Granny’s order was a woman who has taken a pill to help her sleep might not wake up until noon the next day. I slid between the chilly sheets on my bed and watched out the window. Granny had to sleep sometime. So, I waited and waited until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
One thing about nine-year-old me, I didn’t give up easily. Again I took the same route on my hands and knees. Again I paused beside Granny’s bed. This time I could hear breathing. Hurrah! I crawled into the dark living room and eased the door closed. Instead of switching on a light, I went to the kitchen that connected to the living room at the front of the house. I turned on the light. This allowed me to see two distinct plies, and I’m talking about piles of toys, one on the sofa and one in Mom’s chair. I went for the big pile on the sofa, hoping it was mine. I picked up a box and went to the kitchen so I could view it in the light. The Barbie I wanted. I took this back and carefully placed it back on the pile. Next I chose a smaller box and repeated my kitchen visit. Barbie’s baby sister! Just what I wanted! I repeated this several more times until I got worried that I would mess up the way Santa arranged all the toys. Plus, I needed to save some surprises for when Mom was awake.
One would have thought I would have gone back to bed but nope. I decided to do the same with Jeff’s toys just to see if he got what he wanted. The first box I took to the kitchen was Astronaut GI Joe. Boy was he going to love that. Then I took a smaller box into the kitchen.
Oh no. Santa had made a terrible mistake. He had left Barbie’s little brother in Jeff’s pile of toys. Now everyone knew that a boy who liked GI Joe wasn’t going to want a girl toy, even if it was the little brother that happened to go with my little sister. Surely Santa meant for me to have this and got mixed up. So, I placed it beside the box that held Barbie’s little sister in my toy pile. I turned off the kitchen light and worked my way back to my bed without anyone even noticing.
I was right proud of myself for finding Santa’s Mistake. Who could blame him? The man flew around the world in no time breaking into houses to leave toys. He was bound to get confused. I fell asleep thinking about the toys I had to play with when everyone got up.
***
Jeff woke up at dawn. “Time to get up. I know Santa’s been here.”
Mom yawned. “Wait right there, Buster.”
I have neglected to say Mom loved to take photos and wanted to get into the living room first to capture our surprised looks.
“I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
We waited. Jeff had the wiggles and kept peeking around the door. Me, I was as cool as a cucumber. Until…
“Something is wrong in here,” Mom said to Granny. “Ann, come here.”
I swallowed. “Yes ma’am.” It always helped to be as polite as possible when Mom used that tone.
When I entered the living room, Mom gave me the evil eye. “Did you get up during the night and mess with these toys?”
What I thought had to be an innocent look spread across my face. “Why would I do that?”
“Jeff’s doll is in your toys. It should be over in his toys.”
How in the world did Mom know such a thing? She always told me she had eyes in the back of her head but x-ray vision was something new.
“Santa wouldn’t give Jeff a girl doll.” I smiled.
“Put that doll back on your brother’s toys.”
“I don’t want that dumb doll.” Jeff whined.
“You will want that doll or you won’t get your toys from Santa.”
“Okay. I like it.”
And that was the end of that.
It would take me years to figure out how close Mom was to Santa Claus.
All was forgiven and we had a fine dinner and played with our toys all day.
Dear readers: Have a wonderful holiday and look for mountain magic this season. Believe in the mystery and don’t ask why.
