The Stocking

“Mommy, I hear sleigh bells. Is he almost here?”

“You have to go to bed first, dear. He waits until you’re asleep,” her mother answered sweetly from her rocking chair. She watched the twinkling Christmas tree bounce off her face as she slowly moved back and forth. Lorelei was standing in the red and blue plaid pajamas that swallowed her arms and legs. When Dad bought her clothes he usually sized up, just in case she had grown since he last saw her.

Lorelei realized her mother was waiting. She ran around the chair and into her bedroom, quietly pulling the door shut behind her, then jumped into the soft covers of her bed. Now she was ready.

The lights were out, and the purple walls felt like shadows instead of real things holding her in. Lorelei pulled the covers up to her chin, but she could not close her eyes. She made herself completely still, almost forgetting to breathe. Where were the sleigh bells she had just heard? The only sound outside the window was the icy wind washing back and forth, making her cozy bed inside feel even warmer. Was Santa cold out there? If so, her mother would be happy to invite him inside for a while.

Lorelei had not heard any sleigh bells for a whole minute, if not longer, so she dropped the covers and sprang out of bed to investigate. She climbed onto the windowsill to look for reindeer. The sky was clear. The street outside was empty, and the only thing moving was the neighbor’s tree bending sideways from the wind. She pressed her cheek into the glass, letting it freeze her cheek for just a moment so she could get a better look. It seemed everyone was asleep.

Sleep! Lorelei remembered, hurrying back underneath her blanket and pulling it over her head. She must fall asleep for Santa to come. She twisted to her side, tucked up her knees, and squinted her eyes shut. Her hands clutched the covers over her head as she tried to force sleep upon herself, to push herself into that hidden entrance.  But how can one force sleep when something so great is on its way? Lorelei sighed. Since force would not work, she shifted deeper beneath the covers and let her body fall limp, so that sleep may come in and take her away. She would let it. As long as it would make him come, she would let it.

A minute later she is still awake, underneath the blanket. She can see enough light to know where the window is, but not look out of it for sleighs. It was too hard to keep her eyes closed knowing that magic outside might be missed. Suddenly Lorelei threw the blanket down and lept up her bedroom door. She took the knob to pull it halfway open and then bounced back into bed. This way she could hear if anyone were to come inside her house. Lorelei left her blanket down this time. She wanted to watch both sides: the window where she had previously viewed the street, then the door, where she could barely make out some branches of the Christmas tree against the yellow walls of her living room. There was a warm aura around them.

Lorelei’s mother was still there too in the rocking chair. She was sitting back. Her strong arms rested  on the armrests and held a book, which her head tilted to one side to read.  Lorelei could not see her face. The twinkling Christmas tree made a trail of stars on the floor from the rocking chair to Lorelei’s bed. Oh, with so much to see, how could Santa blame her for rejecting sleep?

Lorelei was still for a few more deep breaths. Then this time without realizing what she was doing she stepped down from bed once again. She began walking towards the living room, gazing straight ahead as if being drawn by angels-- trance-like and wondered, with only her blanket dragging loosely from her hand.  She got closer to Mother and the hazelnut-colored rocking chair. A coffee table the color of red autumn leaves and a cushy green chair. So inviting! Passing through the doorway she felt a different air on her face - the living room was warmer than her bedroom. And the noisy wind outside subdued. An aroma of pine needles lured her even more. Near the door behind the rocking chair was the setup for Santa: a colorful plate of cookies Lorelei had decorated, two empty stockings hanging on the wall. 

Becoming aware about her drift away from bed she did not stop but moved faster. Each step brought more and more joy and the Christmas tree started looking even taller and taller and she stopped in place retaining her wide eyed smile when she got to her mother.

She glanced up slowly and returned a softer smile. “Back again? Don’t you want Santa to come?”

The little girl nodded eagerly “Of course! But I want to be here when the magic comes. I want to sleep here.” She tossed her blanket to the floor and then sat down. When her mother did not say anything she squirmed underneath it and lay down on the wooden floor. Mother stood up from the rocking chair and retrieved a pillow that leaned against the wall.

“There you go, dear. Good night” she sang. Then she turned and went into her own bedroom. With the side of her head pressed into the soft pillow Lorelei finally felt able to succumb to sleep. He would be here soon, after all.

She dreamed she could swim the ocean, following a star to the North pole. She slowed down as the water became icier, but she never stopped. She made it to the snowy shore.  A town was not too far away. There were lights of every color outlining little houses. The otherwise black sky above glittered with a million stars which almost looked like angels; Lorelei swore she heard them singing carols in the distance. She looked towards the town, and trekked through the grandest snowmen she had ever seen.

Santa’s workshop was the largest building in the center. People were squirming about the streets, many to and from the workshop’s huge open doors. The people, however, were mostly Lorelei’s size. That’s right! she remembered: there are elves in the North Pole. Lorelei fit right in - except for that none of them were in their pajamas. None appeared lost like Lorelei either. The people would not stop moving; likely no one noticed a six-year-old staring into those bright, inviting doors. How long she had waited to see this! She had so much to ask him.

Inside the shop there were great tall ceilings. A giant welcome mat read in curly letters “On Dasher! On Dancer! On Prancer! On Vixen! If Santa’s inside there are toys to be fixin’!” Lorelei smiled. But it held true: all around were long tables of assembly lines filled with elves making every type of toy. Each one’s small, quick hands were at work. They sometimes smiled at one another, but otherwise would not look up nor pay any mind that Lorelei was now wandering through the crowds. Where could Santa be?

She had always longed to see his face. Just to know what he looked like. Did he have a white beard? Did he always wear the red hat? Lorelei could not even imagine what she was going to say to him. She did not know if she could keep herself from crying in that moment where she would know she had found him. The relief would fall over her like the heat of her home after playing in snow. It would warm her in the slow tingling way from her head down bringing sensitivity into each of her frozen fingers. If she could just talk to him. Maybe she would not be lost.

Some part of Lorelei imagined that Santa would be waiting for children like her to come. When she was lonely or afraid at home, she always looked through the window, believing that everyone who had ever shown her love was outside somewhere, that if she would just go out to them they would surround her with comfort.  She knew Santa was in his shop. How come he hid himself?

Elves shuffled around the tables to perfect their work: Locating exactly where the eyes of dolls would be placed, straightening sails on tiny boats, measuring the sphericity of balls. These looked like the things which would happen here. Everything was normal, she thought. So her heart began to swell with a hope and anticipation. She began breathing deeply.  

She spotted another door in the back right corner with holly draping over the frame. She knew it was him. She surrendered to a full-fledged run. There were answers behind that door. And a love that was willing to come to her house every year and would surely engulf her in its all-understanding arms. It lay only behind that door. She twisted the knob and pushed it open.

The door was heavy. Inside was a smaller chamber, lit only by the glow of a candle melting on a desk which faced the wall to her right. There, hunched over it was the long-awaited magic himself: with a thin pair of glasses perched on his nose for him to focus on a toy in his nimble hands. It was a music box: wooden, painted deep burgundy with a broad golden inscription atop saying “Merry Christmas”. It was beautiful. And Lorelei would at last understand it - who the mysterious man was and how he really knew and loved her.

Without saying a word she came closer.  She reached out to touch his velvety arm. Just to connect with him. Of course, he already knew her completely. He could tell if she were sleeping; did he know everything? All Lorelei knew was that this moment felt timeless. She gave up reaching and leaned in with her entire body. He then looked up from working.

“Little girl. Why are you here?”

“Santa, you already know.” She pressed against his arm. “I wait for you every Christmas.”

Santa pushed Lorelei off of him with his free arm. “You needn’t come into my workshop to get your toys, little girl.”

“I came to see you! I don’t need toys.”

Santa picked up the wooden box again and examined it loosely. “I will tell you not to worry. Most children do make the Nice List, especially at your age.”

“What?”

“Are you waiting for anything else?”

Lorelei stood there and stared. She did not know what to say.

“Then go home, girl. There is much to do before Christmas.” He did not look up again. Lorelei dropped her stare as well. She turned to go,

and all of sudden woke up on the hard floor of her living room. All was quiet. The winter wind outside had subdued to a whisper. The tree was still a-glitter; every other light in the house was off. Lorelei sat up and looked around. The stockings hanging by the door were untouched. So were the cookies. Everything seemed the same. He had not come yet.

Lorelei stood up. The door was open to her mother’s room, and Lorelei saw her lying there with her eyes closed. She was still awake - Lorelei could tell. She looked down at her feet, covered by her baggy pant legs, and her blanket and pillow on the floor. 

The blanket she picked up. Then, dragging it behind her, she walked up to her stocking. It was knit with soft bluish yarn. She looked it over. Then she lifted it off the wall, tucked it under her arm, returned to her room, crawled into bed and fell asleep.