圣誕老人是真的！

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.

我相信圣誕老人。不，我不是一直都相信有這回事，不過在九年前的圣誕前夜，他敲響了我的前門，還送給我一襪子的糖果和玩具。

和我的大多數朋友不同的是，我直到二年級才認識這個快樂的家伙。我們一家從臺灣移民到（美國）喬治亞州中部的一個小鎮，爸爸為家里人拿到了簽證，他在附近的州監獄里給犯人們看病。我剛學英語，根據我從同學那里得到的寥寥無幾的信息，我得知有這么一個家伙會在圣誕前夜從煙囪爬下來，將玩具放在長筒襪里！我覺得這個國家真是棒極了。我用中英詞典查找“長筒襪”的意思，然后就知道該怎么做了。

在那決定性的一夜，等所有人都上床睡覺了，我拿出自己最長、最干凈的過膝襪，將它掛在壁爐臺一枚現成的釘子上。這棟房子的前任住戶顯然對這個圣誕人物毫不陌生；不幸的是，我的父母并非如此。

圣誕節當天，我比所有人都起得早，跑到壁爐邊。傷心事兒就不多說了，松垮垮的襪子這個現實以及平生所見最大的謊言狠狠地打擊了我。我痛哭了一場，馬上將襪子取下來，一把塞在抽屜后面。圣誕老人死了。

我怎么知道圣誕老人只是遲到了呢？九年前的圣誕前夜，一位戴著紅帽子的白胡子老人敲響了我的前門。他說：“我找了你2 5年呢。”他給了我一只鼓鼓囊囊的紅襪子，朝我眨了眨眼便離開了。襪子最上面是一張卡片，上面寫著：“送給貝姬——我也許錯過了二年級的你，但我一直把你記在心上。圣誕老人。……