Christmas Memory 1958

100 Things About Me #164
It was 50 years ago this Christmas week when my family moved into a new home in the faraway land called Atlanta, GA.

I was six and quite emotionally apprehensive Santa Claus might not know where to find me. As a budding humanitarian, I didn't want to cause him grave concerns with any undeliverable gift packages, of course.

Last year, when we were clearing out the very same house to finalize our mother's estate, intuition told me to peruse a huge pile of aged papers headed for the trash heap. I'm so gratified I did because I uncovered a document I had not recollected in decades.

My eyes welled as I recognized and reunited with something that means more to me now than any words can ever capture.

He continues to "fine" me, too. He's the finest.

I love you, Santa Claus.

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