Flatlander

I can’t remember how old I was, but I must have been young.

At that time, the Boise Town Square Mall seemed much larger, and frankly more magical than it is now. I don’t know why we were there, or who I was with. All I remember is Him. The Big Guy. Santa.

I don’t remember the line, I don’t remember the elves, just him and the big tree behind him. I was on his lap. His voice was young for a man so old. He asked me what I wanted. And I froze.

There was only one thing. “The Fox and the Hound.” I had just seen it at my cousin Lena’s house, and it was one of the best things I had ever witnessed in my little life.

But this was Santa. Dare I be so bold as to say what I really wanted? Could I be that greedy?

“A video,” I said meekly. “Just a video?” Santa replied with an incredulous intonation. “That’s it? Is there a specific video you want?” He had given me one last chance to really ask. “No,” I said. “Just a video.” Then I was off his lap and into the land where memories dissapeare.

I didn’t get “The Fox and the Hound.” I probably never even told my parents that I wanted it so badly.

I think this story could be considered a parable about the story of my life.

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