“There’s a part of me that really does want to always believe in Santa Claus. But when we were kids, we didn’t get that much. I remember one time, we said, ‘We didn’t see Santa Claus.’ We’d waited for him. Daddy said, ‘Oh, hell. We live so far back in these mountains, he can’t find us back here. I’m sure he’d have a load of stuff if he’d have known where to bring them.’” She laughs. “But I believe there’s always hope. That’s what I’ve learned. You can always be given hope. Dreams.”
Dolly leans forward, unspooling her legs. “And if he don’t show up, you just figure, like Daddy said, it’s because we live so far back and we didn’t have no lights.”
“I do believe,” she says, her tone turning serious. She looks me square in the eyes, and her soft, whispery vibrato fills the room.
I believe in Santa Claus,
and I’ll tell you why I do
’Cause I believe that dreams and plans
and wishes can come true.