Santa

santa2The rumors started when I was five years old.  I heard whispers on the playground.  I witnessed hushed conversations in the hallways.  But I was five.  I refused to believe it.  Word on the street was that Santa didn’t really exist.

I decided to take matters into my own hands.  I was very secretive about my plans.  When it was my turn to sit on Santa’s lap, I told him that I wanted one thing – a scooter.  I did not tell my parents.   I did not tell my brother.  I did not tell my friends.  No one knew what I asked for from Santa.  If I got the scooter, then Santa was for real.

On Christmas morning I raced to the tree.  And there it was — a scooter!  I was so happy for two things – the scooter and for Santa’s existence.  That one experience carried me for years – and when kids would say that Santa didn’t exist, I would share my story and make them believers again.  I’m pretty sure I believed in Santa to an almost embarrassingly old age.

What I didn’t know at the time was that my parents were friends with the Santa that I visited.  We lived overseas and the American community was small.  He relayed my wish to my parents.  Santa really is pretty great!

 

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3 Responses to Santa

  1. elsie says:

    Everyone needs a bit of magic in their life. That must have been an awesome moment.

  2. Adrienne says:

    What a great story. I’m glad your “experiment” worked.

  3. Susie says:

    I love that line, “I would share my story and make them believers again.” What a wonderful slice of Christmas spirit.

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