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.Â 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.