I Still Believe

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I still believe in Santa Claus.

It’s an odd confession for someone my age, I know.

I’ve known for many years that the existence of an old, plump, white bearded dude who squeezed himself down chimneys and who kept reindeer as personal flight attendants wasn’t real. It seems as if I’ve always known that it was, in fact, my parents who bought and wrapped all those gifts each and every Christmas. It’s only been in recent years that I’ve realized that his magic and generosity live on in each of us; it lives on in grand expressions of generosity, like plane tickets home and even in the smallest of gestures of comfort and good cheer.

The magic appears during lunches with old friends: with cousins during late-night shopping trips and last minute dinners filled with laughter; it is tossed about with snowballs in the midst of impromptu snowball fights.

Magic glistens in the eyes of children: In one who still believes.

And, in another who may not still believe in the physical being of old St. Nick…but who is excited by the holiday, presents, and the extra time spent with those who adore him.

So, when I say I believe in Santa, what I really mean is I believe in magic. I believe in elves and flying reindeer. I believe in sweet brothers who make things happen and kids whose innocence and wonder are catching. It is magic that washes away family drama for a few hours of uncomplicated togetherness and it is magic that wraps itself around our hearts binding us together, forever.

Wishing you the merriest and most magical of Christmases!

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