Personal Narrative: The Surrealism Of Snow

Hopefully my fuzzy memory doesn’t disappoint the reader too terribly, but I’ll just come out and admit that I don’t recall many sensory details that go back as far as this particular Christmas story happens to.

Now, that’s not to say I missed out on the universally appreciated experiences that we learn to recognize as gifts from Winter.

Some of them remain more deeply etched across my mind than others, like the satisfyingly loud crunching sound of your boots as they stomp the freshly fallen orange and yellow leaves lining the streets.

The sound of my grandfather nailing the Christmas lights up outside my window.

The Surrealism of Snow

Or the first morning you wake up to the total transformation of your familiar surroundings by something
Stiger proved far more memorable, even now as I struggle to revisit my year spent with each of them.

I remember that on the very first day of December, Mrs. Stiger announced that we would be doing a very neat arts and crafts project.

We were going to create a Christmas chain, using red and green construction paper and glue sticks.

I didn’t know what a Christmas chain was, but I knew anything including the word ‘Christmas’ had to be worth getting excited about.
Next, she demonstrated how they were constructed as she explained what their purpose was.

She told us that we needed to cut and glue together exactly 24 construction paper rings, and each one represented a day of the month. The twenty-fourth ring was made using a different color of paper, to indicate Christmas Eve was upon us.

This was sounding more and more exciting to me, and I wanted her to stop talking so I could get my hands on some paper and scissors sooner.

But there was one more part of the story, she quickly added.

After we made our chains, we could take them home with us and show our parents so they could hang them up in the
While we were there, I saw a man dressed up like Santa who looked just like him.

There was a line of other little kids waiting to sit on his lap, so they could tell him what they wanted him to leave under their trees that year.

Someone was taking a picture of each kid while they sat on his lap and whispered in his ear.

I asked my mother if it was really Santa Claus, because I didn’t think he would just come out to the store and do that.

She explained to me that it wasn’t actually the real Santa Claus, of course.

She said it was just a nice man who dressed up just like him, so the kids could have their picture taken with him.

She shrugged it off as being perfectly understandable, considering that it was impossible to get a picture with the real guy, after all.

That made sense to me.

Writing My Christmas List for Santa

I had only one important thing left to do in preparation for Christmas that year.

I still needed to be sure that I wrote my Christmas list, so I could mail it to the North Pole in time to ensure that Santa knew what presents to bring me that year.

I asked my mother how it could get all the way there to the North