A Christmas morning where you can hear the snow

A draft leaks in through the shoji screen.
A Christmas morning where you can hear the sound of falling snow.
When I woke up, there was a present by my pillow.

No matter how many times I remember it, the time it was by my pillow,
was only that one time.
I jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen where my mother was.

"Did you give this to me, Mom? Dad?"
I knew that Santa wasn't real anymore.
So, I was certain that either my father or mother had bought it for me.

"Huh? I don't know anything about that," my mother said while making breakfast.
I asked my father too, but he said he didn't know.

It was too strange. No one knew.
Are they pretending not to know, or do they really not know?
I still don't know to this day.

I opened it and was surprised.
Inside was a cassette player that I had never once told anyone I wanted.
Yet, it arrived as a Christmas present.
I really thought that maybe Santa Claus existed.

I treasured it—.
I truly treasured it.
When I went for walks, when I went to sleep, I always kept it by my side.
I would put the earphones in my ears and play my favorite music.

Even though I should have treasured it.
Even though I remember the memory and the feeling of it.
I no longer have the actual item in my possession.

Did I throw it away as I grew up,
or is it just lost and still remaining somewhere?

Someday, I will go on a treasure hunt.
Even if it's broken, that cassette player is
the best present from my childhood.

The shock, the confusion, the excitement of that time.
Even after decades, it hasn't faded.

My own—"special" thing.