Fiction: Airs of memories

Airs of memories
I was lying looking up at the whitish ceiling, some insects were walking around in a dance of love, distracting my gaze fixed on nothingness. My arms were under my head, raising it a little to have a better perspective of the struggle for the domination of the space in my room.

My dark eyes focused deeply on those movements, so much so that my mind drifted back to a happier time. My mind fluctuated between images that came rushing in, activating scenes that I thought were lost in the mysterious workings of the mind.

The Christmas nights of my childhood came all at once, I saw myself sitting there in front of the tree anxiously writing my letter to Santa, my pencil moved to the sound of ideas and deep desires of what I longed for. The charcoal was tattooed on the white paper, rough and with a delicate rough texture.

I remember that together with my siblings we would leave the letters, held between the greenish plastic branches with the ornaments of red and gold balls, accompanied by the colored lights in an alternating cycle of ignition. Mom would make her presence known with a plate of delicious cookies baked with her delicate hands, it was an almost unparalleled pleasure.

She would call our names and we would pick up our designated share of cookies, a glass of milk was the ideal companion to taste the sweet whitish nectar. My siblings' smiles danced between the smell of freshly baked cookies and the sweet smell of incense wafting through the air, my mother's tradition every December where she bathed our house with the mystical plant, according to her to drive out evil spirits and bad luck.

Once we were satiated with the snacks prepared with love, my mother would send us to our rooms to sleep, and then wait among silent illusions for the innocently requested gifts. My sister would approach me and say. "What did you ask for little brother?"

"A remote control car." My eyes sparkled in the light and my breathing fluctuated between sighs cyclically released into the air. I caught my breath and asked her. "What about you?"

"A rag doll to be my pretty daughter." She cupped her hand over a few brown strands that fell into her eyes and tucked them aside behind her ear.

The excitement of waking up the next morning disturbed us a little, leaving Morpheus to delay in coming to meet us. Meanwhile, my sister was once again blurting out some innocent and somewhat wistful words. "Why daddy is never around on these dates?". A sob I could hear under her blankets.

"I don't know, maybe something always comes up, tomorrow you ask Mom." I would turn my face to the side of the wall and start counting colorful sheep to fall asleep, lost in the cookies, wishes, and mysticism of the annual magical night.

In the early morning, I began to hear noises in the living room. I woke up and moved my sister. "Sister, sister, wake up, someone is in the room."

My sister rubbed her eyes and as she came back to reality, she mumbled a few words. "Who could it be?"

"Come, let's go see," I said to my sister, as I tugged on her arm.

We stealthily opened the door and looked out into the dark mists that surrounded the hallway, my sister was holding my arm tightly, and I could feel a slight tremor. I squeezed him tightly to give him the sense of security he needed. We stuck our heads out of the door and the noises were getting louder and louder.

We decided to go out into the corridor and with a soft but determined walk. We made our way into the dark depths of mystery, while our hearts beat like a racing car. We squatted down to the bleachers, and our breathing became faster and almost anxious.

My sister would say to me. "Brother, let's go back to the room, I'm so scared." She was clinging to my arm with the idea of going back and leaving the mystery unfinished.

"Don't be afraid, sister, I will take care of you no matter what." I squeezed her hand projecting reassurance. "We've come this far, we must unravel the mysterious noise."

I felt my sister affirm in a low voice and then we started down the steps one by one, I was mentally counting each step that separated us from the incessant noises. We arrived at the dining room, the darkness was cut by the dim colored lights that illuminated the back of the room.

We followed the lights like a bloodhound to its prey, the luminous colors indicated the way to follow in that thick darkness. We reached the dining room door and with anxiety coursing through every cell, which seemed to explore before our nerves, we shouted with fury and fear contained in the transit of that mysterious epic. "Get out of our house, you shameless thief!"

A scream of fright on the verge of cardiac arrest was heard throughout the house, it seemed that the darkness dispersed at the fluctuating sound. Then a few words uttered by that shadow said to us. "It's me, guys, calm down."

The voice sounded very familiar and we recognized it immediately. "Father?" we asked in unison.

"Yes, it's me, boys. Don't be afraid I'm just arranging the presents."

At that instant my mother would appear and turn on all the lights in the house, revealing the impromptu Santa Claus, wearing a red and green Christmas hat, accompanied with a funny brown reindeer sweater on his chest. The mystery was solved, and laughter flooded the festively decorated living room. Christmas had arrived with this gangly, slightly awkward, and loving man.

We embraced each other with a deep implicit joy for that beautiful special date. Dad gave us presents and mom served us hot drinks. From then on we knew that our beloved Santa was the father, who although he was not on Christmas Eve, was always there on the most important date for us.

I came out of the trance of that memory, nostalgia overwhelming me. I ran to the phone and dialed hurriedly, the ringing sounded impatiently like an agonizing call for help, on the other side of the line sounded that familiar voice that I loved so much, and that for study reasons I had forgotten. "Hello, Dad, I've decided to come home for Christmas."

"That's great news, my dear son. Hoho."