There is no doubt that pleasant experiences make a difference in terms of the era and time in which we live. That is why, for many, these days of the year are usually of happiness, celebration and reunions, moments that also give space to remember with some nostalgia what was and was not during this year. There are many things that could be written with the ink of love and happiness, but there is also room for those experiences that mark a before and after in the life of someone else, especially when that someone becomes just a child.
My memories automatically take me to that scene in which I see a 9 year old boy talking with his neighbors and friends about what will be the most awaited day for everyone: the arrival of Christmas and the gift that the baby Jesus will bring to each one of them. The excitement is palpable, and immediately we all begin to imagine that moment when we can have that longed-for gift in our hands. Some show their discontent for the kind of gift they received last year, while others boast that they received more than one gift, something their parents said showed the results of good behavior and obedience.
-Who will be the baby Jesus?
It was a question that quickly gave us a reason to think and invent about how or who it could be. Some of my neighbors said it was someone who flew into the house just as we were sleeping so he could bring the gift we had asked for. Others said it was a magical being that passed by the Christmas tree and left a bunch of presents for the whole family. In my case, I even came to think that it was the "Christmas spirit" that many mentioned and to whom they alluded to the concept of something supernatural and impressive.
-But has anyone ever seen St. Nicholas or the baby Jesus?
-Obviously not, because they are magic," said one of my friends.
In fact, the boy who asked the question admitted that the year before he had tried to stay up late to see him, but in the end sleep overcame him. With that, everything went back to the idea of the beginning, and everyone began to say what they had written in their letter as a gift request.
It was there where my restlessness and curiosity to know who was that strange character that year after year was in charge of bringing gifts to all the children in the neighborhood. So my curiosity did not stop there, but I got into my head the fact of being the first child to see the baby Jesus bringing the toys. Of course, I knew that in order not to fail as was the case with my friend, I had to come up with something to keep me awake until the end. How could I do it?
At my grandmother's house there was always a thermos full of coffee, and in my family this is a deep-rooted habit that still remains to this day. At that time, I wasn't allowed to drink coffee because I was such a child, so I had to sneak a full glass. I put it in the drawer of my clothes, and left it there until the time my mother would send me to sleep. I remember that that night I was more aware of that than of anything else, and when it was time to go to sleep I put my invention into action. There were three of us sleeping in the room, my two brothers and me, so I had to wait for them to go to sleep before I could go get the glass of coffee.
For a moment I was tempted to tell one of them, but then I thought, "I want to be the only one to see the baby Jesus," so I decided to go ahead with my plan on my own. Suddenly, I tried to talk to them to see if they were awake, and receiving no response, I quietly got up and went to get the coffee. I quickly got into bed, and tucked myself in, sat down to drink my coffee. I put the cup under the bed, and tucked myself in again, leaving only a small edge to look directly at the door.
As time passed, the excitement and the effect of the coffee generated a certain desperation in me. I was practically motionless, but my wide-open eyes kept looking towards the door of the room. Suddenly I felt nervous and thought: "When I see him, what am I going to say to him?" "What will he be like?" And so many thoughts came and went in my mind in a fleeting manner. I even came to believe that because I was awake maybe he would not come to the house, and I had also heard of other children to whom the baby Jesus or St. Nicholas had not brought anything. The reality is that as time went by, my heart was beating with great excitement and I felt that this moment would be very special.
Suddenly the door to my room opened very carefully, and someone peeked in. I wanted to see and at the same time I didn't, because I felt fear and at the same time a lot of tension. Again that figure appeared but this time carrying several things in his arms, and just after placing everything beside the bed my surprise was abysmal: "It's my mom!" "The baby Jesus is my mom"! And so I felt a kind of sensation that went from extraordinary to incomprehension. I thought I would see something spectacular, full of magic and illusion like in the movies, but my amazement left me speechless. That early morning was quite long, because the coffee had a stronger effect than I thought.
At last the long-awaited morning arrived, and my siblings woke up to the excitement of finding their presents. I, a bit resigned and disappointed, pretended to be surprised because I didn't want to tell them what I had seen. Why didn't my mother let the baby Jesus come and bring the presents herself? It was something that as a child I always kept and then as I grew up I fully understood. I admit that at first I felt frustrated and confused, but as an adult I understood what was behind this custom.
From all that I can only rescue the gesture of my mother to maintain the illusion of her children, and that is that even working as a seamstress and without earning much she always managed to comply with that custom. In fact, I would have liked to have known this from the beginning so I could have thanked her as it should be, perhaps leaving aside a lie to deliver a gift, and letting the truth of our feelings be reflected transparently through the gift. This is something that as a child we would perhaps not understand, for after all a child's mind paints more for the magical and the supernatural.
