I’ve been debating about posting this question for a week or two. Who am I to squash the myth of the holiday season upon us?!
For some silly reason, just before Thanksgiving, I had a memory pop into my head of Christmas seasons past. I have an almost unbelievable memory which losing it is probably one of the top few biggest fears I have. I can remember things from when I was a toddler and even some as early as infancy.
Around the holidays, I was ALWAYS sick. It seemed that almost every Christmas I either was so sick I couldn’t breathe properly or I was constantly having my face in a bucket or running to the bathroom to throw up. (these early skills have definitely been useful in my adult years of overindulgence of massive amounts of alcohol)
(Santa Claus believers can STOP reading NOW!!!!)
The memory that popped into my head a few weeks ago was the Christmas where I discovered there wasn’t really a Santa Claus. I am the youngest of four, and there’s a four, six and seven year difference between me and the three of them. I was about 7 or 8 and of course had a stomach virus of some sort. My parent’s were singing in the choir at both services on Christmas Eve at our church, so my three older siblings were looking after me. Apparently, they were also instructed to assist my parents with the Christmas presents.
In one of my many trips to the bathroom to get sick, I saw them downstairs carrying presents and putting them under the tree. I also caught my sister putting together a fischer-price dollhouse that was to be a present for me. And that’s when I knew it was Mom and Dad, and siblings who got the presents there, despite many presents that clearly were marked “from Santa.”
I remember that it wasn’t so much of shock, but more of a disappointment. I just went back to my room to my glass of 7-up and went to sleep.
It seems like it was yesterday.
I still pretend to believe though.