I am 36 years old and the statement I am about to make will get me ridiculed by someone who thinks individuals should not have fun. You know the type of person that is not very fun at parties. The Karen’s of the world if you will. Yeah, as an adult I still believe in Santa Claus, just not the version you are thinking about. But first, a story.
Growing up, my parents-read grandparents, but that’s another story, were living on two social security incomes and trying to raise my ass. And while we never struggled for food because we constantly grew all our own vegetables, one thing is for sure, extra spending cash would be a little harder to find. Did this really bother me? Not on the day of opening presents and spending time together. The image of my family sitting around a kitchen table that would only get cleaned twice a year always put a warm spot in my heart. A lot of the time the conversations the adults were having would go over my head, but I just wanted to open a present and feel that rush. And I would be so excited about the gifts I received even if it were a piece of fruit in a tube sock (because my mother apparently did not believe in stockings).
And the first Monday after Christmas vacation would be the day that others would discuss their Christmas weeks. Someone talked about getting a 4-wheeler, another their own hunting rifle, or the latest video game console. I walked the short trek back home, walked inside my house, and grabbed a basketball just to sit outside with my feelings. I had asked Santa for the Super Nintendo. And nothing. And while I would have been around 7 or 8 in this situation, I did not understand the concept of money and the amount needed to live on.
But I remember my Dad going to great lengths to try to make a visit from Santa Claus work. I remember waking up on time to the sounds of bells jingling. And being the brave child I am, I hid under my blanket. Because a chubby kid with fear flowing through his veins is not going to make the situation any better. I was so worried that if Santa caught a glimpse of me, it would be the end of Christmas. And once I heard that present go down, I stayed under that blanked even if my bladder were about to break like Hoover Damn. And my dad would go out of his way to be loud when sitting down those presents. Now, I can laugh about it. However, at that point in time I thought I would ruin Christmas if I were to get out of that bed.
Ultimately, I knew who was sitting the presents out at night, So, why still believe? Because those moments are truly the magic of Christmas. And I took those for granted when I was younger. At times I thought it was the cheesiest thing in the world, but I would give anything for that feeling one more time especially in 2020.
And this year, my heart goes out to all the families of the world who have lost someone. Maybe the person who was their spirit of Christmas.
So, why do I still believe? Because for one cold night a year, the magic of Christmas will live on. And hopefully one day, I will not be too afraid to give Santa a hug instead of hiding under my blanket.