Is not what my family reads on Christmas Eve.. grab a beverage, curl up in your favorite chair and indulge my inner storyteller as I share my story with you.
The year was 1995. I was 25 years old, working full-time and had 3 young children. My oldest,Jason was 7, Ryan was 3 and Ali was 1.
As most you you know, I was a cosmetologist. I worked for 20 years at the same salon. It changed ownership 3 times, but like the toilet, I was a fixture there. As a result, I developed a lot of great friendships with my clients. I’m still friends with many even today.
A lot of my clients were older and gave me some excellent advice over the years. I honestly learned so much from these ladies. I’ve shared This story before, and today I have another.
Jason was at the age where he was starting to question Santa. It was breaking my heart. I had missed the Christmas before because I had complications with my pregnancy with ali and spent Christmas in the hospital..
I desperately wanted just 1 Christmas where all 3 of my kids believed in all of the magic of Christmas.
I was telling my client, Eileen about my delemina. She took my hands and said, ‘Michelle, listen to me.. you need to go buy the book The Polar Express’
Eileen never had kids of her own, but had nephews that she treated like her own. She had given them this book the year prior and said it worked magic.
I called around to find a bookstore that had it, and there was one that was 20 miles away. It was Christmas Eve day and time and money were tight. She made me promise that I would find a way to go get it.
And she told me a few other things too…
I bought the book, wrapped it and put it under the tree and told the kids they could open that one goat on Christmas Eve.
( I feel the need to add that this was years before the movie came out, which honestly, I can’t stand)
I snuggled with all 3 of them and read them this beautiful story and put them to bed.
Christmas morning, Jason came running down the stairs screaming..”santa was here!!! He left his bell on my pillow!!”
I was so happy that I remember tearing up. It was all that I wanted for Christmas, and I got it.
A few years later, a good friend gave my the polar express whistle. Every Christmas Eve, I read the story, my youngest niece blows the whistle at the right moments trhoiout the book. And every year, santa comes!
Moving across country has been hard, especially around the holidays. Today is the day that my family is celebrating Christmas 1,834.3 miles away. Through the wonders of modern technology, I will still be reading this to my family. My neices have the book and later tonight, we will all snuggle in our pajamas and FaceTime while I read this story to them
We also throw reindeer dust. Each and every year
May you always believe