Picture with Santa, 1971

Claudia McDonald, age 2, probably at Sears in Hamden, CT.  But who knows for sure?

I was two when this photo was taken. My only memory of this particular occasion is the photo itself. Outside of knowing that the photo exists, and knowing that the child reflected back at me when I look at it matches other images I'm told are me, there's no other connection for me. 


I love this picture, and even though I don't look through my childhood photos as often as I used to, I have always remembered this photo. But it's really just an image. I don't remember seeing Santa, let alone sitting on his lap. I don't recall wearing the blue jacket or the red checked pants. And I can't tell for certain if I was allowed to eat the candy cane used to still my toddler nerves.  


I revive my existential center when I think about how many moments I've experienced that don't link up with present-day me with any tangible breadcrumb trail to trigger a memory. 


I'm glad I have this picture, and I'm glad my parents helped to create this memory, however buried it remains. It seems like the kind of photo a person ought to have.