Thursday December 18, 2014
4:22 PM Eastern Standard Time
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
“Mom, can we talk?”
Wendy Briese looked up from her tablet as her daughter slumped into the room. She had been reclining on the sofa, an ice pack under her back, watching the Colleen vs. Luther Thunder match from the last uprising of the year, taking mental notes of her upcoming opponents’ tendencies. She frowned at the sight of Theresa- something was clearly eating at her.
“Sure, hon. Wait just a second.”
With her thumb, she paused the match- leaving poor Colleen perpetually in Luther’s Torture rack, and set her Nexus aside. “Now, what’s up?” Wendy said with a smile, swinging her legs down to a sitting position, and patting the cushion, inviting her daughter to sit beside her. Theresa obliged, walking over and plopping on the couch. And then all was silent for several long seconds, as her brooding daughter looked down at the floor, swinging her legs, something clearly bothering her.
Finally she looked up, and directed her gaze straight at her mother. “Is Santa real?”
Wendy nearly choked in her startlement- that certainly hadn’t been what she was expecting! Just the past weekend, Theresa had eagerly gone to see Santa at the mall, excited to tell him what she wanted, and now she was doubting his existance? “Of cou.. why do you ask that?” Wendy sputtered.
“Because today at school, we were talking about what we wanted for Christmas, and I said that I hoped Santa would bring me a new bike, and everyone else laughed at me and said he didn’t exist.” Theresa said sourly. “I asked Sister Abigail about it, and she just shrugged and sad ‘you should talk to your parents about that.’ So, well…”
Wendy cringed. She appreciated the delicate position the teacher had been placed in- a wrong answer either way could have landed her in hot water with an angry parent. Still though… by deflecting it to her, she was all but confirming Theresa’s budding suspicion. She chanced a sidelong glance at her daughter, who was still staring intently at her.
“Please tell me the truth, Mom. Is Santa real… or is it you guys?”
For just a split second, Wendy was tempted to allay her daughter’s suspicions, confirm Santa was real, and promise to find a way to prove it to her. But her daughter was eight now… and if she was the only girl in her class who still believed…
There was always going to be a time the illusion ended.
“It’s us.” Wendy said quietly, remorsefully. “Just… us.”
She looked at her daughter’s face. There was very little surprise- this was only confirming her sudden brought upon suspicions. But a bit of disappointment was creeping into her eyes, and Wendy felt heartsick for it.
“So… you and Dad put out the presents at night after I go to sleep…”
Wendy nodded.
“And you and Dad eat the cookies and drink the egg nog I put out…”
She nodded again. “Why do you think we insist on oatmeal raisin every year?”
“And the magical dust in the fireplace the next morning?”
“Glitter. That was actually Pollaski’s suggestion. His parents used to do that.”
“Why?”
She had to have known the question was coming, but it still caught her off guard. Theresa wasn’t asking why about the glitter. She was asking why about the whole facade. That answer wasn’t so easy to give.
“Before I answer that question, let me ask you one back. Does knowing now that Santa is not real diminish any memories you’ve had of previous years? Does the excitement you felt waiting for Santa to come feel any less real? Was the joy you felt on Christmas morning realizing he came feel faker?”
Theresa thought for a while. “I don’t know. Not really, I guess?”
Wendy put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “Do you know how I found out there was no Santa, Theresa? I walked downstairs on Christmas morning when I was four, and found my parents passed out drunk in front of the tree. Mom had half a chocolate chip cookie in her hand, and Father was still in the middle of writing ‘From: Santa’ on the gift tags. Terrence got told when he was five by Uncle Steve right after he bacame his guardian, because Steve had no clue what he was doing, figured he was going to mess it up, and didn’t want to set Terrence up for a disappointment. Neither of us were ready to stop believing, but were kind of forced to. When we had you, we resolved that you’d get to experience to joy and wonder of Santa, and that we’d let you believe until you were ready not to.”
“So I’m ready, then?”
Wendy laughed. “If you’re going to walk up to me, sit down, and say ‘tell me the truth, is Santa real or not?’, the way you did? Yeah… you’re probably ready.”
Theresa sat quietly for several seconds, frowning, and Wendy grew concerned. Then again, she figured it was a lot to digest. “Are you okay, Terr-Bear?”
“Yeah.. I just can’t believe it’s all been a lie…”
“Except it’s really not…” Wendy nodded even as Theresa shot her a disbelieving glare. “I mean, yes, there’s no fat jolly guy who squeezes down our chimney and leaves you presents… but that doesn’t make Christmas less real, does it? I mean, yeah, you’ll still get gifts, but they’ll be from us, not Santa. And there’s still church, and Jesus’ birthday, and The Nativity, and carols and hymns, and pretty lights and decorations, and christmas dinner, and spending time with the family. All of that’s still very real, right?”
Theresa nodded. “Yeah, I guess. But it’s not really magical…”
Wendy smiled. “Theresa, just because there’s no Santa Claus doesn’t mean there’s no magic in Christmas. Don’t you remember last year?”
None of them would ever forget that Christmas Eve- driving to spend Christmas at mountain chalet in Tennessee, they had been held up by a snowstorm, and wailaid by a little girl named Felicity, who had begged them to help her mother and baby sister. They had- driving up an abandoned road high into the smokies, only for Felicity, her mother and sister, and their car to disappear into the snow. Where they had been were three little crosses, one with Felicities name upon it, Wendy’s scarf neatly wrapped around it. Even now, Wendy’s throat tightened at the thought of the memory.
“That was creepy…” Theresa admitted, shuddering slightly.
“You really think so?” Wendy asked, raising her eyebrows. “Do you know what I remember fondest about that? Before we met Felicity, the three of us were cranky, tired, bickering, and in generally bad moods. After that, we were together again, tighter as a family, and we were all even singing as we drove into the chalet. I’d say the magic of Christmas took its hold, wouldn’t you?”
Theresa’s nose crinkled skeptically. “Wait… THAT’S the magic of Christmas?”
“Absolutely!” Wendy said enthusiastically. “The magic of Christmas is within your own heart, and its very, very real. It’s that feeling you get when you sing your favorite Christmas carol, or eat a yummy Christmas cookie. Or when you see the joy in the eyes of someone you’ve just given a gift to, or helped out someone in need. Or standing outside as the sun sets on Christmas Eve and watching the houses in the neighborhood light up one by one. Or singing “Silent Night” illuminated by a thousand burning candles at church. Or… yes, even running downstairs on Christmas morning and opening your presents. THAT’S the magic of Christmas… and you don’t need Santa for that. Or rather… perhaps you could say that’s what Santa truly is?”
Theresa frowned, her brow furrowed. “I guess…”
Wendy reached over, and took her daughter’s hand in hers. “Ultimately, Christmas is whatever you want to make of it, for this year, and the rest of your life. You can make it about the birth of Jesus, of course. Or you can make it about presents, or decorations, or singing, or cooking, or family, or even not make it at all. The decision is yours, and yours alone. It took me several years to learn that you don’t need Santa, and fall in love with Christmas again.”
“So… I’m still going to get presents?”
Wendy burst out laughing at her impetuous child. “Yes, Theresa, there still will be presents. In fact, if you want, Terrence and I will still make it like Santa came, with the fairy dust and the egg nog and cookies. Would you ike that?”
Theresa thought for a second, then nodded.
“Great! Terrence will be thrilled to know he’ll still get his oatmeal raisin cookies and I… I can look forward to vacuuming up glitter for the next month.” Wendy grinned, then checked the clock. “Oh, wow. It’s getting late. Your dad should be home soon. I’ll start dinner...why don’t you go up and get your homework done so you have a free evening?”
Theresa nodded, then jumped up off the couch to head up the stiars. She took five steps then turned around. “What about the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny?”
Wendy smiled sadly. “Sorry, hon.”
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