WHEN YOU GET TEARS INSTEAD OF THE GIFT

I was born in a poor working-class, patriarchal family, who didn't give any importance to the holidays. We did not celebrate birthdays, New Year ... only Bajram (a great Muslim holiday).

For the children, a New Year always represented an important holiday to be remembered by Santa Claus. Only when I was seven years old, when I attended the first grade of elementary school, it was the first time I saw Santa Claus. I've heard of other children that he is an old man with a white beard, the red boots and a red cap on his head, dressed in a red suit, and comes from a far country, from the north. At the end of the Old Year, he brings gifts to children who have listened to their parents and behave well. Of course, not anything, but just what every child wanted. I could not understand how Santa Claus knows what children want and how he knows which gift he will bring to each child individually.

In our house, we never talked about him. I secretly believed in it, although I had not ever spoken about my wishes at home.

At night, before I fall asleep, I secretly dreamed that Santa Claus brings me a gift too. However, it never has happened.

I remember a few days before the arrival of Santa Claus in our school, school-mistress has scheduled a meeting with parents on which was attended as usual my father too. Everything that happened on this meeting, what was discussed, the father did not speak, and as always, this time he returned home cheerful what meant that once again he had the opportunity to be in front of other parents proud of its ''little one'' because of her excellent grades. 

One day, at the end of December, our school-mistress announced that the next day there will be no teaching, but we are obliged to come to school in the specified time when it would be shown on the occasion of the New Year.

That night I could not sleep for a long time. I tried, but because I was thinking about what would happen the next day, dream earnestly avoided. I close my eyes thinking that I would be so lazy to sleep, I try to count, but nothing. It seemed to me that this night would last forever. It's been a long time before I finally fell asleep.

And finally dawned. I washed my face, I'm not sure that I could have breakfast, I put on clothes and again ... I was waiting. It would be so nice if I could to speed up the time on the clock to minutes go faster, but no, it was not in my power.

While other members of my family normally performed their usual activities, only me somehow especially experienced this morning. I was wondering how they do not rejoice together with me. When it finally came time to leave home, almost running, on the snow that crunched under my inherited boots, I went to school and not knowing how much disappointment waiting for me there.

The event was organized in cooperation with the National Theatre of our town. It was nice and festive, unforgettable for me, as in a real fairy tale!

You can imagine, it came veritable open coach, specially decorated for the occasion, with harnessed horses. In the coach is a Santa Claus with a bag full of gifts for children and with him two women - one is old, the shabby, ugly dress, and the other young and beautiful, like a fairy, in the new lacy dress, which I've only seen in picture books.

They explained to us that these are the New year and the Old year. The event began with a performance, so then some pupils recited poems related to winter, New Year and Santa Claus, but I did not listen to the text, the words... In front of my eyes replaced the images, scenes, they were very colorful and I'm just speechless. It seemed to me I'm dreaming. If someone accidentally converted to me I'm sure that I would not even notice him. I absorbed the images and simply just watched and watched, let my eyes absorb all this beauty. It was no matter for me what they say.

For a long time, I remembered this event, better to say I have never put it out of my memory, and each, every New Year's celebration reminded me of it. It was so beautiful, almost unreal for us first-grade pupils, it seems to me particularly. At times I thought that I participate in this show. The succession of the participants in this event, mainly from higher grades, announced a new, play music, but surely not wrong if I say that all pupils including me, could not wait for the big - sharing gifts and taking pictures with Santa Claus.

And finally, it came to that moment! Santa Claus takes out gift packages and individual calls out all first-grade pupils of our school, not just my class. There are many children, and I just think when I will be called. Again scenes that were repeated. Through the microphone denounce children row of the individual class. Looking forward to starting calling the pupils in my class counting that I will finally come to order. Again, I waited. Finally, I see - the pupils in my class are called!

And guess what - it happened something that the children believed in: each child receives from Santa Claus a gift pack that is wished, at least so they said friends from my class, screaming with joy and satisfaction. I rejoiced with them eagerly expecting Santa Claus gives me a present too. I waited a long, long time until the last gift is removed from the bag, but my name was not called out.

I stood silently, just like a few hours before that I silently watched the wonderful performance as a fairy tale, but this time it is somewhat different. I heard only my heart to beat fast, and quiet, the silence around me. For a moment I thought that the others hear the beating of my heart too ... I could not believe in that big, huge bag there was not the package with my name. So small, insufficiently grown and insecure I did not know to whom I become a convert. I thought, maybe it was a mistake. In that whole rush, my teacher did not notice that one of her pupils, an excellent pupil, didn't receive a gift, although she was present all the time with other pupils. Yes, she was with a smile on her face, bouncing with other friends, her heart pounding so crazy, so happy because she attending an event like this, and even more so with anticipation to receive a gift, but it did not happen. Again, her heart pounding so crazy, but now somehow different. Even she did not take a picture with Santa Claus. All children will get a souvenir photo for a few days, and she will not get it too.

I was so sad, disappointed. I have long stood against the wall of the large room where was the performance, as I was waiting for something, but I did not know what. All my school friends had left school with packages in hands, and I stayed last and did not know what hearted me more, because I did not get a packet, or because nobody noticed it. In a way I was ashamed. I came back home alone, crying and wondering why it happened to me, although I listened to my parents, I was an excellent schoolgirl...

It so hurt me! I was very sad, unhappy, ... I was coming home alone and tears streaming down my face. I didn't wipe them, I let all the beauty that my eyes were absorbing during the performance, simply slip into tears down my face. Do not I need even it as my eyes ''captured'' when I have not received a gift. Yes, all received a gift and I got tears!

All the time I was wondering why it happened to me, although I listened to parents, I was an excellent pupil ... I was really good, filled all that it was needed to Santa Claus brought the package for me too, but it did not happen! Why???

Only after a few years, I found out the truth. At the parents' meeting, held a few days before the end of the Old Year, the school-mistress spoke to parents about the upcoming celebration and it was agreed that every parent finds out what their child wants to get from a Santa Claus, and buy it, and then in school, they would form packets (of course, for this it should give a certain amount of money immediately to the parents' meeting) in which will be found and an appropriate gift with full name of each pupil individually.

Lovely thoughtfully, but for me, a little girl from a poor family, it was unfeasible.

I've often thought about this, of course, later when I was older. I wondered why my father didn't give money as it did other parents. Maybe he did not have it, and perhaps the reason was quite something else - perhaps religion.

Yet, no matter what was the reason, as the years passed and I was older, I could not understand why my father did not prevent me from going to school that day. At least he could do it! For this, he didn't need money nor the regulations imposed by religion.

So I would be spared of the disappointment, sadness, shame...