Monkey, Doctor Dolittle, and Santa Walk into a Closet

My little secret

Santa really understood exactly who I was. He knew I loved animals — especially monkeys. He also knew how much I wanted to be a writer.

I had told no one about these secrets. My Family teased me unmercifully about everything — so if it mattered — I told no one. I read my Dr. Dolittle books hiding in my closet so I wouldn’t get teased for reading yet another book about animals. It mattered to me I became a writer, so I hid my tablets between the wall and the bed on the edge of the bed frame.

When Santa gave me a stuffed yellow monkey who was holding the most beautiful pen, I’d ever seen right over his heart. I knew the rumors I had heard were not true. I had proof that Santa existed! He found the perfect gift for me! Santa knew my secrets.

I carried Monkey (I was very pragmatic when it came to naming things) who carried that magnificent silver and pink pen everywhere I went. He climbed the sugar maple in the front yard with me. He hung upside down in the Tulip Populars with me. He had to wait patiently on the bed for me to get home from school. But I would run from the bus up the stairs and swoop him into my arms as soon as I got home. We’d slip into the closet and read a little Doctor Dolittle together.

One cool day in early spring, my mother said, “Your father and I never figured out what that thing you were carrying was. We bought it for the pretty pen. We thought you’d use it to practice your handwriting — too bad that didn’t work.” To mom’s dying day, she thought I was sobbing because she insulted my handwriting. As she was drawing her last breaths, she held my hand and said, “I’m really sorry about calling your handwriting ugly,” — See, I’m still keeping secrets.