Sleeping Santa

While taking the Christmas decorations down from the shelf, my thoughts race with memories of times past and times present — of those individuals who shaped my life, and those who now are my life.

From the first box, I remove a carefully wrapped plaster Santa. He is slumped into a comfortable chair, asleep, apparently from total exhaustion. I set the Santa down and contemplate his condition and recalled the story my Grandmother Klinksiek told of her shopping day in the early 1940s.

She had shopped all day and came upon this Santa displayed in the Kress’s window on Houston Street, in downtown San Antonio.

She tells of how she stood there peering down at the Santa, her arms loaded with packages, and how she felt as tired as he appeared.

She went into Kress’s at that moment, bought the Sleeping Santa, and took it home. It was prominently set upon the breakfront, flanked by candies and ornaments, and each year thereafter, she would tell us the story of the Sleeping Santa in the Kress’s window.

There was a bond between the Sleeping Santa and my grandmother, and as I stare at Santa now, I feel the bond between my grandmother and me.

I only hope, as I tell these stories, those I love are listening and will someday be standing as I am now, looking at the Sleeping Santa, and a bond between them and me and my grandmother, each with a common entity: Love.