This may make me seem naive and innocent, foolish even, but I admit I still believe in Santa. Maybe not the tangible fat man in a red suit, but Santa isn’t just a man; he is magic. Specifically, Christmas magic.
A moment of nausea followed the time I found the wrapping paper that Santa used to wrap my gifts, but then it subsided and I continued to believe in the big man. In my house, if you didn’t believe, you didn’t wake up to presents on Christmas morning. Santa still gets cookies and the reindeer, carrots.
Tangible or not, I choose to believe in Santa because if you can’t believe in magic at Christmas, when can you? If you’re religious, you’re going to say it’s God, or Jesus, or angels and miracles, but Santa’s magic knows no religion, no discrimination, no denomination. Santa’s magic is the feeling of warm fuzzies once Christmas decorations are displayed. You know what I’m talking about. It’s an undeniable change in the air. It’s when people are kinder to one another. We find more reasons to give to the needy and help the helpless. We may leave a large tip for our restaurant server because “’tis the season.” We may choose a child or elder from the angel tree at church or work. We may decorate our homes so that others can find happiness in the outlandish display. We play Santa and leave gifts on the doorsteps of those who’ve fallen on hard times. Our actions speak volumes at Christmas.
I see those little moments that happen during the Christmas season and wonder why people don’t believe in Santa. What’s the harm in believing? He may not actually leave presents under your tree, but Santa stands for all things good at the holidays: love, hope, wishes, and dreams. He inspires people to lend a helping hand and spread smiles. He entrusts in us a feeling of warmth towards one another. He is the reason behind the unexplainable.
One Christmas, I received a red and white striped scarf with a Winnie the Pooh embellishment embroidered on the end. I had wanted this scarf so badly and couldn’t believe when I opened the box and found I had received it. Of course, I absolutely had to take that scarf to Colorado with me on our ski trip. I wore it the whole week but when it came time to pack the suitcases I couldn’t find it. My parents and I tore apart each luggage but still couldn’t account for its whereabouts. As soon as we returned home to Florida, I opened one of the suitcases and there it was folded neatly at the top. None of us had found the lost item and placed it so obviously in sight. To this day, I don’t know how the scarf ended up back in my possession, but I claim it was a little bit of Santa’s magic.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. As long as we believe in him and his magic, the Christmas spirit will continue. Though it’s impractical and unrealistic, it wouldn’t surprise me if the legend of Santa Claus wasn’t just a myth. I’m a believer in what others can’t see. I choose to keep my childish innocence around the holidays. I choose to focus on the fantasy of Christmas because life through the eyes of a child is so much more wondrous. The possibilities are endless, the joy more plentiful, and the world more magical.
On December 25, we go to bed with the last shred of Christmas warmth burning in our hearts. By the next morning, we awake and it has evaporated. The air feels a bit different, more normal; The days don’t shine as bright as they did yesterday. The magical feeling has disappeared just as the visions of dancing sugarplums vanished. The Christmas season has ended as quickly as it began. Santa is back in the North Pole rejuvenating.
Yes, I’m almost 32 and believe in Santa Claus. I am naive and innocent and foolish. But I believe in the endless possibilities of the imagination. I believe in magic.
“Seeing isn’t believing; Believing is seeing.” Open your eyes and hearts to the magic surrounding you. Merry Christmas!