Compliments to Tomás Ó Toghdha for proofreading
Picture: Pertti Kurkela
Our family friend Santa couldn’t come,
couldn’t come.
Where can we get a Santa
for our 5-year-old boy?
Where?
I can be Santa!
As Santa,
it’s me who’s fooled many kids.
Many kids.
for many years.
Experienced, I am.
My son,
he doesn’t notice anything.
Tense, he is,
waiting for presents:
too much of everything.
Christmas Eve is coming.
I say I’m going
to guide Santa to us.
I go to the store.
I put Santa’s clothes on;
I ring the doorbell.
My son opens the door,
looking worried.
I start talking to him
like Santa does.
He starts crying
and says:
“It’s dad!”,
and he starts crying more bitterly.
I can do nothing more than
take off my Santa beard and hat.
I step in.
I no longer live here;
I moved away three weeks ago
to the other side of the field.
There’s my ex; my daughter;
my mother, Pena;
my ex-mother-in-law;
my son; and me.
I tell my son that
I saw Santa,
who was in a terrible rush, and Santa said to me,
“Could you give me a hand, please?”
My son listened to the story,
calmed down, and
said to me,
“Next time, I want the real Santa!”