The holiday season is quite frankly my favorite season ever. The cold yet refreshing weather (#sweaterweather), the special Starbucks cups and the plethora of Dean Martin’s classic songs ringing through the malls … these are some of the many things I love about December. But I’m forgetting something — the gift bestower himself.
Santa Claus has played a crucial role in so many childhoods. Whenever I see the lines of eager kids in the mall, I can’t help but reminisce of my obsession and ardent love for Santa Claus.
Like most little kids, I thought Santa was real.
I remember waking up on Christmas morning when I was 4, going to the tree and, to my delight finding the Barbie shop register that I yearned for. At this moment, the phone next to me rang. My mom picked it up and said, “Santa is on the phone for you, Deepthi!”
As a gullible as any 4-year-old, I gushed my thanks and adoration to Santa for bringing the bright pink shop register. Santa chuckled in reply and told me to be a good girl.
A few minutes later, my dad arrived from upstairs. As I ecstatically told him all about my call with Santa, he seemed bemused. (Little did I know that “Santa” was my dad.)
As the years progressed, I started to become doubtful about Santa’s existence. My cousin, who is six years older, would constantly tell me there was no such thing as Santa. (Shocking, right?)
For my part, I decided not to believe my cousin. I just assumed he was a “bad boy” since he was always doing annoying and tortuous things to me like punching me, shoving me into wall and “accidentally” throwing a basketball at me … but I’ll save that story for another time. I assumed that this misbehavior was the reason that Santa never visited him on Christmas morning.
In 2004, my faith in Santa was still going strong. That year, my family was going on a trip to Italy, and I was filled with suspicion and wonder about how Santa would be able to complete the feat of delivering my gift to my house. After checking the tree at my house numerous times before I left, I knew that there was no hidden gift. Santa would have to deliver my gifts before we returned.
When we returned on Dec. 27, I was delighted to find my present underneath the tree. (This time my mom sneaked in and planted the present while I was in the car to the airport to Italy). Obviously, I was astounded by this feat of Santa’s. I was reassured completely that Santa did in fact exist.
As the years progressed, during the first few years of elementary school, I realized that my cousin was right. There was no dramatic moment when my faith in Santa was lost; it was more of a gradual process. Finally, I had to face the reality that there was no Santa.
Although the concept of Santa Claus is improbable, crazy, and in some cases a safety problem (a stranger coming into your house through the chimney … what?), I realize that it has added so many more memories and joyous moments into my younger childhood years.
So as Christmas nears, it is hilarious and cute to watch my younger cousins get all excited about Santa. And unlike my older cousin, I’ll do my part to maintain their childhood belief in Santa Claus knowing that they too will one day realize that the jolly, chubby gift bestower is not real. I mean I was Santa-struck too at one point.