Hola de nuevo. Espero que tu día haya sido más relajado que el mío. Well, lets move on to third grade.

Mis memorias de tercer grado son como una ventana borrosa… I genuinely think that’s the best way to describe it: a blurry window.

Third grade- I was eight years old. By this time, my hair was getting really long…I had the bad habit of taking a couple strands from the right side and putting them in my mouth-when I was pensive. I spent the first half of the school-year here in the United States. I don’t remember my teacher’s name; all I remember is that she knew French and always told us to be quiet in French, “Fermez ta bouche!” Bueno pues.

Around the Christmas Season, my dad got orders to Panama. Todos estábamos felices por que íbamos a ver a la familia. My mom bought little plastic candy canes filled with chocolate kisses for my cousins, a couple of fancy chocolates for my aunts, and other Christmas stuff for my grandparents. My parents got us all in the blue Ford minivan – my brother (4), my sister (2) and me- and drove from Fort Campbell, Kentucky to the airport in Charleston, South Carolina. I sang Christmas carols the whole way there, my brother slept and my sister sucked on her thumb -which most of the time she said tasted like some sort of food item.

It was snowing a lot! The snow was beautiful: little white flakes decorating the earth. We arrived at the airport in  the evening, and as my dad unloaded the luggage and my mom made sure none of us ran off anywhere, I noticed all the T.V. screens were turned to CNN. My dad was told we couldn’t check-in; flights to Panama were being canceled. Later that evening, we found out that Panama was being invaded.

The next morning, we drove to Miami to spend Christmas with my dad’s uncles.

My dad’s uncles were really sweet: Tía Ana was from Nicaragua and her husband, [Santiago] Chago, was Puertoriquen. While my mom unpacked our luggage, Tío Chago took my dad, my brother and me to the grocery store. ¡Conducía como un loco! Seriously – I didn’t know anything about driving and knew this man drove like a Nascar racer. Every time Tío Chago saw a police car, he would lower the window and yell, “Get them! Get them!” and every time he saw an ambulance he would shout, “Kill them…no don’t kill them!” I thought he was funny.

While we were in Miami, my brother got really sick and had to stay in the hospital for New Year’s Eve. My mom and dad stayed with him; and I stayed with Carmen and our great-uncles. Tía Ana and Tío Chago had a son named Luis, and that night his girlfriend stayed for Christmas Eve dinner; I think they were both in their 20s. The girlfriend, let’s call her Tonta, was having a beer and commenting on how cute my sister was. I was wearing some fashionable, light blue, plastic earrings and necklace with a white lace dress.

At around 9:30 p.m., Tonta looks at me and says, “Well little girl, don’t you think you should be going to sleep? Santa doesn’t come if you are still awake.” Tonta’s tone of voice was demeaning, and I certainly did not appreciate it.

“Santa is not coming,” I replied in a very matter-of-fact tone of voice.

Tonta’s eyes opened wide, she set her beer down on the table and put her hands on her waist. “What do you mean -Santa is NOT coming?“ she shouted.

Tía Ana motioned for Tonta to calm down, and Tío Chago just sat at the table and chuckled. My uncle Luis didn’t even seem to be paying attention.

“Santa doesn’t exist,” I said sarcastically. “I can’t believe you still believe in Santa… You’re too old to believe in him.”

“¿Qué?“ Now Tonta was pist. “Cómo que Santa doesn’t exist?“ She yelled.

“He doesn’t exist… He is made up… No one delivers presents to all the kids in the world; your parents buy them.” I felt like I was talking to someone my own age, someone who still believed in the tooth-fairy and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Verdaderamente, ¡que idiota!

The lady was totally enraged. I don’t know if it was the beer, her beliefs, or the fact that her boyfriend and Tío Chago were laughing to tears.

“SANTA DOES EXIST! – You little brat!“ Tonta was tomato-red. “HE DOES EXIST!“

“NO He doesn’t,” I raised my voice, “cuz if he did exist, he would take food to all the starving children in Africa!“

Tío Chago was rolling out of his chair. Tía Ana and Luis had walked over to Tonta to calm her down; and Carmen was fervently sucking on her thumb. I remember going to sleep that night, with Carmen next to me, praying for my brother Oscar to feel better and for my parents to come back soon.

La idea de Santo Claus en muy bonita, pero yo siempre supe que era solo una imagen y nada más. It would be awesome if Santa Clause really existed - pero eso no va a pasar.