Do you remember when you were a kid and the idea of Santa driving a sleigh through the sky around the entire world through only one night being pulled by nothing but flying reindeer made your eyes light up with wonder?
I do, because it was the only time during the whole year when my mind could focus on something other then the fact that my childhood had been ruined by a rapist; it was the only time where I still believed magic existed.
Every year it was the same, I would stay up as late as I could just waiting to hear Santa’s sleigh up on my rooftop, but when I finally fell asleep and woke up in the morning somehow they’re would be trinkets and candies of all kinds stuffed into my stocking and stacks of presents under the Christmas tree. If magic were ever real, then it was in this moment, for this one day in my whole childhood, and it was glorious.
I miss that more then anything now. I miss being a kid and still believing that magic was possible, that there were such thing as flying reindeer and a jolly old guy who went around the world delivering presents to nice little girls and boys. There was a time when it all seemed like a wonderful dream come true and it wasn’t just a ploy invented to get kids to behave well.
Still, there was one Chrismas in particular I remember that was almost unbearable, a real ripping-my-hair-out kind of pain. My mother was the only one to notice my sudden break-down, and caught on to my depression early.
We had just been talking about what we were going to ask Santa for and it pained me to see my brother and sister so ecstatic about Christmas coming up, but not me, I just ran out of the room and broke down, balling my eyes out uncontrollably.
My mother came into the room quietly, “Violet, what’s wrong? Why are you so upset?”
I sniffled, wiping my nose on my sleeve like a careless eight year old would do, “Santa isn’t going to bring me any presents this year momma, I haven’t been a very good girl”.
My mother looked down at me with a loving smile, running her nimble fingers through my hair, “Oh little Violet, do you know why Santa brings children presents?”
“Because we’ve been good?” I batted my watery eyes up at her.
My mother chuckled, “No silly, he brings presents because he knows that no matter what you are going to grow up and remember Christmas as the best time of your life, the one day out of the year when everyone is happy and no tears are to be shed”.
It took awhile for this to sink in, Santa only brings presents to make people…happy? I had never in all my life loved my mother more then I did in those few moments, she had given hope back to me, something I thought I had lost when that man took everything from me, but he couldn’t take away Christmas, and what was even more surprising, he couldn’t take away the idea of magic.
Someday I am going to have children of my own and I am going to make sure they believe in Santa until the day I day, even if I have to rent a sleigh and find reindeer and hire someone to climb down my chimney and pretend to be delivering presents. I want the wonderment of something magical to stay in their heads forever because…
Well, magic isn’t always just an illusion.
10 comments
I wish I could remember that moment also, but my dad is very anal about religion so he ruined my childhood by becoming a Jehovahs fucking witness and not letting us celebrate anything, so while you were a kid trying to hear Santa on ur roof. I would sit and cry in my room because we wouldn’t celebrate anything and enjoy that. I may not have been raped or beaten for no reason, but I grew up as a ***** and afraid to take chances and when I fo I fuck it up badly. I have no reason to live and my grades have dropped. I don’t know how it feels to imagine Santa on my roof at a younger age and I would watch through the window at trick or treaters on Halloween. So… I… T-T
Violet,
here’s a present you can get, only if you care.
Since little, you dreamed till fell asleep, and awakened to find the Chrsitmas presents by the tree, and the stockings stuffed, it’s just luxury of parents love to their child in play.
Now you have grown old enough for parents to soothe you anymore like a child, or your attitude just rejecting that kind of silly showing of love, but deep within you the little girl yearning for love is still immense enough to break you apart without that same old stuff.
I’m a father, and I understand the love I care for my beloved daughter who’re living just 10 minutes walking distance away.
But I haven’t seen her over 3 months now, and not even a call from her to say a warm hello.
And how could I call her instead, and could bear to hear her excuse that she’s always been busy !
My love is always there, but could only send her loving-care through emails, oneway only.
Call your father in Wisconsin, just tell him that you love him, you miss him, is all that matters.
It’ll be a present to your heart, that’ll ring ding-ling-tong.
Trust me. It’s love you care, you miss, you fear, you hide, and you hate.
The time you burst it all out without that seemingly pride upholding you, you’ll heal, yourself.
You could believe even the santa, and so can you to let go of your own demon !
@RogueShadow1281: Well….First off, I wouldn’t say I was raped and beaten for no reason, obviously there was a reason or else it wouldn’t have happened. Oh well, I’m not really concerned with what his motives were. Anyways, I am so sorry your father did that to you, I would never do that to my kids, not in a million years. I don’t care what religion I end up being by the time I have kids (if i am any religion at all) they are going to believe in Santa. Any grown up who takes the magic of Christmas from any child is horrible and should be ashamed of themselves. So, with all due respect, have a very merry Christmas 🙂
@fireflieslite: I’m going to pretend like I actually understood a word you said and just take that as some type of motivation. I did call my father btw and he made an excuse to get off the phone with me so I ended up talking to Jimmy instead who had stopped by to make sure my father wasn’t alone on Christmas. I don’t miss my dad, I miss the idea of him.
Violet,
Thankyou for your reply, and that was really a surprise to me.
Well, I might as well treat that btw as a sweet X’mas present from you.
Your father’s reaction on the phone, was just someone acting tough withholding his emotions while in front of people.
Of that, I see that trait in you too.
What a Jimmy ! Wow, he’s great for caring.
One who won’t first run away in situation of self advantage, I call one a friend.
Sadly I still don’t have one.
And I don’t miss you. I miss the idea of you.
Ummm….I dont miss you either?? I dont get that part, thats all.
Keep it be ambiguous as it stands,
as you said,
“I don’t miss my dad, I miss the idea of him.”
I really never understand a words you say and I’m an experienced writer. This says something…
When I say I miss the idea of him I mean I miss the man I wanted him to be when I was just a little girl without a father. It wasn’t fair to me that he couldn’t handle what happened so he had to leave me all alone when I needed him most. He was supposed to protect me to begin with, I think that is what hurt him most of all though was the fact that he knew he had screwed up and ruined my life. I partly blame him for not being around enough even when he did live only minutes from me and not hours and hours on a plane. He could have stuck around after it happened and tried to make it better for me, but he didn’t, he fled. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that, even on Christmas.
Violet,
I like that. That’s your true emotions.
I can help untie that deadlock. Even could write to him. (don’t worry, I won’t do it stupidly without permission)
From what I know, he’s just a man (a true man so to speak).
Not like me, effeminate in heart, ready to understand and care for the little things.
And your account of his inner feelings is quite right.
It does hurt a “big” man, of not doing his manly job right.
As for me, I couldn’t contact my daughter without my wife’s meddling with.
Each time the gathering limited to 2-3 hours, and once 2 weeks, or once a month, disregarding even holidays.
She’s raising the girl to be dependent on her only, and not to me a father.
It really can kill a devoted father, only not if I stay myself away even though just a few minutes living distance away.