圣诞老人是真的!

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I believe in Santa Claus. No, I didn’t always believe, but nine years ago, on Christmas Eve, he knocked on my front door and handed me a stocking filled with candy and toys.

Unlike the majority of my friends, I wasn’t introduced to the 1)jolly guy until second grade. My family 2)emigrated from Taiwan to a small town in central Georgia, where my dad got a 3)visa for his family and a job doctoring 4)inmates at a nearby 5)penitentiary. I had just learned English, and from what little I could gather from my classmates, there was this guy who would come down one’s chimney and put toys in one’s stocking on Christmas Eve! What a great country, I thought. After I looked up stocking in my Chinese-English dictionary, I knew what I had to do.

On that fateful night, after everyone went to bed, I took my longest, cleanest knee sock and attached it to a nail already on the 6)mantel. Obviously, the previous owners of this house were no strangers to this Santa character. Unfortunately, my parents were.

I woke up before everyone else on Christmas Day and ran to the fireplace. To make a 7)sob story short, I was hit with the reality of a 8)flaccid sock and the biggest lie ever told. I 9)indulged in a few tears, quickly took down the sock, and stuffed it in the back of a drawer. Santa was dead.

How could I know that Santa was just late? Nine years ago, on Christmas Eve, an older man with a white beard and a red cap knocked on my front door. He said, “I’ve been looking for you for 25 years.” He handed me a 10)bulging red stocking, winked, and left. On top of the stocking was a card. It read: “For Becky—I may have missed you in the second grade, but you’ve always lived in my heart. Santa.”

Through tear-blurred eyes, I recognized the 11)curlicue handwriting of Jill, a friend I had met just two months before. I later discovered that the older man was her father. Jill had seen the hurt little girl underneath the 12)jaded thirty-something woman and decided to do something about it.

So now I believe that Santa is real. I don’t mean the twinkle-eyed elf of children’s 13)mythology or the creation of American holiday marketers. Those Santas annoy and sadden me. I believe in the Santa Claus that 14)dwells inside good and thoughtful people. This Santa does not return to the North Pole after a 24-hour delivery 15)frenzy but lives each day purposefully, really listens to friends, and then plans 16)deliberate acts of kindness.

我相信圣诞老人。不，我不是一直都相信有这回事，不过在九年前的圣诞前夜，他敲响了我的前门，还送给我一袜子的糖果和玩具。

和我的大多数朋友不同的是，我直到二年级才认识这个快乐的家伙。我们一家从台湾移民到（美国）乔治亚州中部的一个小镇，爸爸为家里人拿到了签证，他在附近的州监狱里给犯人们看病。我刚学英语，根据我从同学那里得到的寥寥无几的信息，我得知有这么一个家伙会在圣诞前夜从烟囱爬下来，将玩具放在长筒袜里！我觉得这个国家真是棒极了。我用中英词典查找“长筒袜”的意思，然后就知道该怎么做了。

在那决定性的一夜，等所有人都上床睡觉了，我拿出自己最长、最干净的过膝袜，将它挂在壁炉台一枚现成的钉子上。这栋房子的前任住户显然对这个圣诞人物毫不陌生；不幸的是，我的父母并非如此。

圣诞节当天，我比所有人都起得早，跑到壁炉边。伤心事儿就不多说了，松垮垮的袜子这个现实以及平生所见最大的谎言狠狠地打击了我。我痛哭了一场，马上将袜子取下来，一把塞在抽屉后面。圣诞老人死了。

我怎么知道圣诞老人只是迟到了呢？九年前的圣诞前夜，一位戴着红帽子的白胡子老人敲响了我的前门。他说：“我找了你2 5年呢。”他给了我一只鼓鼓囊囊的红袜子，朝我眨了眨眼便离开了。袜子最上面是一张卡片，上面写着：“送给贝姬——我也许错过了二年级的你，但我一直把你记在心上。圣诞老人。”

我在泪眼模糊中认出了吉尔的花体字，她是我两个月前刚认识的朋友。我后来发现那位老人正是她的父亲。在这个三十几岁的疲惫女人的外表下，吉尔看见了那个受伤的小女孩，决定为她做点事情。

所以我现在相信圣诞老人是真的。我指的不是童话故事里眼睛闪闪发光的精灵，也不是美国节日营销的产物。那些圣诞老人让我心烦，也很难受。我相信的是居住在善良的有心人心底的那位圣诞老人。他不会在24小时的疯狂送礼之后就返回北极，而是每天都留心生活，认真聆听朋友的心声，然后为之策划出有意而为的善举。