Santa Wears Size Thirteen
By Daniel Stallings, East Sierra Branch
My immediate family – Mom, Dad, and my sister, Michelle – are big on Christmas. Mom likes to festoon the house with a massive amount of decoration, enough to rival even the most vibrant window display in the flagship Macy’s. We decked our halls with swags of garlands, dangled ornaments or a blizzard of snowflakes from the ceiling, trimmed the tree with ornaments I’ve remembered since I was a toddler. My memories of this time of year are very precious, but there’s one set of them that proves the level of care my parents took in creating something beyond special for my sister and me.
Picture it as if you were a child, see it through the eyes of my sister and me as we woke up bright and early on Christmas morning. We’d shuffle out of the bedroom we shared as small kids, and the first thing we’d see, directly across the small hall to the living room, a furnace that heated our house. We didn’t have a fireplace or a chimney for Santa Claus to use. So my parents told us that Santa used magic to transform the furnace into a chimney so he could visit us.
And there, in front of the furnace, was a piece of evidence even a mystery writer such as myself could not ignore: A Santa-sized footprint made of magical snow.
The snowy footprints traveled from the furnace, down the little hall, across our entryway, into the living room, and aimed for the Christmas tree. Then they’d turn around and cross to the table across from our front door where there was more evidence of a midnight visitor – nibbles in the treats we left for Santa and his reindeer. Finally, they’d return to the furnace where they vanished into thin air. Santa’s whole visit mapped out in a series of snowy steps!
They were big feet, size thirteen at least. The snow never melted, but was cold to the touch and emitted a faint holiday scent. Maybe cinnamon. Maybe pine. Sometimes we begged Mom not to vacuum up the magical proof of Santa’s visit, but of course, the snow had to go. However, Santa and his enchanted footprints would return year after year.
When Michelle and I were grown, we learned the secret of Santa’s shoe size. It was my Dad’s shoe, a sneaker he and my mom traced to make a stencil. They laid out the trail, using powdered carpet cleaner, vaguely scented, as the magical snow. This meant when my mom vacuumed the ‘snow,’ it cleaned her carpet as well. They only used one stencil, flipping it over to create the two prints. A little more prop juggling and stage work and, like a proper theatrical performance, the scene was set.
Does knowing the truth spoil the magic? I don’t think so. Because it proved to me just how detailed my parents wanted to be to make our holidays magical. It showed us how much they cared. Happy holidays, everyone!
Though he writes in all genres, Daniel specializes in writing and producing
interactive murder mysteries.
You can read more about him at https://mastermysteryproductions.com/.