REMEMBERING XMAS 'BOOTY'

I've been thinking about Christmas gifts. Not what I want. Not even what my family wants. I haven't had an altruistic thought about what I can give back to the world. I've been remembering my favorite Christmas gift ever.

I was eleven years old when I opened a package from Santa.  Inside were the most beautiful white boots. In 1963 they were called go-go boots.  Just above the ankle, they were plain and had a short heel. I wouldn't be caught dead in them today, but those boots were the first thing I remember wanting so much  I could taste it. At that age, I was too old for toys and too young to know that I was asking for something outrageous.   I can still feel the tissue paper between my fingers,  still remember my first glimpse of those small, white boots, and I still remember thinking that wishes can come true.

So, belated though it is, I would like to thank Santa for the following:

·         Thank you for recognizing that I was growing up.

·         Thank you for paying attention to my wish.

·         Thank you for being impractical.

·         Thank you for sacrificing to get those boots

·         Thank you for writing Santa on the tag.

·         Thank you for not laughing as I strutted around  all day wearing my boots under my homemade bathrobe, with my hand-me-down clothes and in my pajamas.

·         Thank you for including white shoe polish.

Thank you for the memory, Santa. There has not been a gift before or since to match it. Now that I am much older - and hopefully a little wiser - I have another wish: I wish  that everyone will get their 'boots' this holiday season.