Past Imperfect — #400

The bright shine of tender innocence…

Image by Author, my traditional placeholder for images that I cannot use on Medium. In this case, we have a young girl, in her night-night clothes, trying to look up the chimney in her turn-of-the-last-century modest dwelling…

Momma: “Lucille, get away from the fireplace. We live in the projects, you don’t know what might fall out of there.”

Lucille: “But Momma, it’s Christmas Eve. Santa is coming!”

Momma: “Santa? Baby Girl, Santa doesn’t know where we live. We’re on welfare.”

Lucille: “That’s not true. If you are good and kind and don’t kill anybody, Santa will bring you a present for Christmas.”

Momma: “Well, Santa is very busy. Sometimes he can’t get to all the houses.”

Lucille: “But I want to know what he thought about me, if I was good or bad.”

Momma, pausing in her scrubbing of the sink that always looked dingy, no matter the effort: “Oh. Well, honey, I’m sure he thinks you’re a wonderful little girl, just like I do. But maybe he won’t be able to tell you that just right now.”

Lucille: “Oh, I know he’ll tell me. Come sit with me, Momma. Let’s wait together.”

Momma, setting the sponge aside and rinsing her hands: “We do have a few cookies in the jar. I suppose I could put them on a plate.”

Lucille: “And milk! He needs a glass of milk. I didn’t have any for dinner just in case.”

Momma: “Yes, we do have a bit of extra milk and… well, let me get this all ready.” Momma tinkered a bit and then sat down beside Lucille with a few modest treasures. “I think this should do.”

Lucille: “It’s perfect! I know he’ll like it.”

Momma, hesitant: “But, Baby Girl, sometimes what you hope for is not what you get.”

Lucille smiled: “I just got it.”

Previously published. Slight changes made. Inspirational image found here.