“I still believe in Santa Claus, maybe that’s just because I’m still a child at heart.”
– NKOTB
It amazed me every Christmas morning to see my stocking filled with goodies. Or if the present were too big to fit into my stocking (!), Santa’s presents would be neatly laid out on top of our family piano, or right next to my pillow.
If I think back really hard, I can say it was one of the purest joys I’ve ever experienced.
My most memorable present from Santa was a backpack in the shape of a teddy bear. When I’d wear the bag, it would look like I was carrying the brown bear on my back, its arms over my shoulders. I absolutely adored it. It wasn’t something I asked for, but I do remember being awed with how Santa knew what I wanted. There were many other Santa presents, but that teddy bear backpack was the most magical for me.
As third grade hit however, my classmates told me that there’s no such thing as Santa. I refused to believe them, but still my heart broke at the idea that someone else was playing his role. It upset me terribly.
I did not give up hope though, I continued to write to him for two more years. With each year however, the magic waned and the signs that he may not be real after all started settling in.
Sometimes I wonder if there really is a Santa Claus. St. Nicholas, yes, he existed. But I wonder about that Santa Claus from the North Pole, with the jolly built and deep laugh. I wonder from time to time if there is such a thing as his toy workshop, with elves gleefully putting wooden toys together, with reindeer watching enthusiastically from outside. And then Mrs. Claus would come in with glasses of apple cider, and Santa’s cheeks would redden further.
It doesn’t hurt to wonder. It doesn’t hurt to imagine. And so even if reality would tell me otherwise, well, I still believe in Santa Claus.
