I believed absolutely in Santa Claus until I was in second grade. After all, there was evidence. On Christmas Eve, after my brother and I were advised to stay in our rooms lest Santa Claus not come, we would hear the jingle of the bells on the reindeer harness outside our windows.
In the morning we could see the marks on the roof from the sleigh runners with the reindeer tracks between them. The chocolate milk was half drunk and the cookies were gone. And there would be, set up in front of the tree, one present for each of us from Santa…a walking doll whose feet attached to mine with elastic straps so we could walk or dance…a frontier fort with each tiny character exactly placed in a tableau of action…a beanbag game with sand bags that even matched some of our clothing. It was pure magic.
Then I transferred from the Etna one-room school to the big city school of Stevensville, the sophisticated second graders shattered my world by telling me there is no Santa…that Santa was really our parents. When I asked my mother, she said only, "Well, if you believe in Santa, he brings you presents." And that is all she ever said about the matter. Years later I realized that had horse harness with bells on it…and 2x4s make excellent stand-ins for sleigh runners…and deer hooves could be saved from hunting season. How wonderful to have parents who put that much effort into bringing magic to the season.
That sense of magic stayed with us as got to be 10 or 11, we were privileged to be n the Santa side of the equation to continue that sense of magic and love for the younger relatives…and to stay up later on Christmas Eve sharing that special night with the adults while creating the magical world for the nephews or nieces to find in the morning. So now, though I know there is no jolly guy from the North Pole, I still believe in the spirit of Santa…in love and magic and wonderment and in believing in something I can’t quite see or understand totally.
Dr. Marcia Prather
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