Santa's Village

I wrote about this before, but not in as much detail.  

When I was little, my dad took me and my brother to Santa's Village. I think I still had hopes that there really was a Santa Claus, but I knew deep down he was fake as hell. I had a little friend named Amy Pacheco who said he wasn't real. That if I paid attention, the handwriting and wrapping paper should look familiar to me on each present. 

My dad used to love the mountains, and he took me to the San Bernardino Mountains all the time. I used to vomit on the way up there, because I got car sick, and he drove a stick shift. Switching gears only makes my motionsickness come on faster.

We got to the mountains, but people on the road were sending everyone to buy chains for the tires, so we wouldn't slide on ice in the mountains. I remember my dad took me to a store and bought me yellow mittens. I was in the parkinglot gagging over the snow. I didn't want to get back in his jeep. I was crying. He said it wasn't very long, that all we had to do was go up there, and he pointed to this hazy white mist with a mountantop sticking out of it. I said, "What's that?" He said, "That's a cloud. The mountain is so high up we'll be in the clouds." That facinated me.

I remember laying in the back of his jeep. He was telling me I was missing everything. My brother was like, "Yeah, you're missing everything." I just moaned in the backseat that my tummy was hurting. The jeep stopped. "We're at Santa's Village!!!" I couldn't wait to get out of the jeep. I remember looking around and seeing real snowflakes falling out of the sky. Kids were everywhere. The ground was cold, and the air was seeping into my black leather boots. My fingers were cold, and my mittens were getting a tear in it, where the thumb and index finger meet.

I don't remember the rides as much as I remember Mrs. Claus. She came up to me, grabbed my hand and led me to a machine that dropped all kinds of candy. My dad took me to Santa's Home. It was a house, but the line was going out the door. I remember getting close, and I was excited. I got up to Santa Claus. I got on his lap, and I remember seeing kids to my left, and a camera to my right. Santa said, "What do you want for christmas?" I looked at him and said, "I don't know." He looked at my gap, where the teeth had fallen out a few months before. He said, "How about some new front teeth?" Everyone started laughing, and during that laugh, that's when they snapped the Christmas picture of me. Santa gave me a candy cane.

After Santa's Village, I remember my dad taking us somewhere in the mountains. We had innertubes in the back of the jeep. My feet were frozen and I had been crying. I didn't have the right kind of shoes on for snow. I couldn't go out with them. I never got on the innertubes, but I sat in my dad's jeep, thawing out while his heater was on. I remember crying and watching them slide down miniature slopes. I wanted to go home.
 
I don't remember going home, but I remember that I didn't like snow. I remember being scared of snow, thinking about frostbite, losing limbs and stuff. Alas, that's one of the few memories I have spending with my dad. And still, he was not in a picture with me. I don't have any pictures of us together. I miss you dad.