I believe in Santa. As a child I was taught that Santa was a tangible object. He was something I could feel, touch, or hug. I was taught that he was a great man who lived at the North Pole, and in the freezing arctic he would make the toys for me on Christmas night. Each Christmas morning I would wake up and there would be exactly what I imagined under that sparkling Christmas tree. I was close to nine years old when I asked my mother about the so-called myth that everyone at school had been talking about. I expected her to comfort me, and tell me that the myths were false so that we could get on with our day. Unfortunately that was not the case. She walked up to me, put her hand on my shoulders, and said, “ Nope, no son he’s not real.”
I believe in elves. The following Christmases after that incident were never the same. I would still have to play along of course. I had a younger sister who had yet to be enlightened. I didn’t feel like ruining her dreams for the moment. So I played along. For the next few years I did this very well. Finally one day the news was broken to my sister and the games had finally stopped. One Christmas after that my brother was born. When he could finally somewhat understand the English language we had to start playing along again. I am still acting to this day.
I believe in the North Pole. Watching my brother grow older has opened my eyes on a lot of things. I guess that’s just part of growing older, and part of being an older brother. There are times when I see my brother live the same experiences I did when I was his age. It’s a very nostalgic experience. My brothers third Christmas was the first time I was able to see my brother’s reactions. He was now old enough to somewhat put into words what he was experiencing. On that Christmas I witnessed the sheer joy that Santa brings. Watching the joy on my brother’s face was giving me joy as well. As I looked around I noticed that everyone in the room had a huge smile on their face. The joy had spread to everyone, not just my brother. The joy was radiating from my brother like light and everyone around him was absorbing it.
I believe in Santa. I had realized that Santa was real. Though not physically real he was real in hearts, eyes, spirits, ideas, and in my brother’s mind. He was real and alive in all of us. He is a spirit. He’s a spirit that gives us joy and happiness. In the time that he is around, during that special time of year the earth however small becomes a better place. People laugh more and give more. New minds are subject to the idea and old hearts are enlightened by the new minds. Santa is real. He is alive in all of us and he continues to live through us each year as we try and make this world a better place.
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