Sep 28

I used to believe in Santa Clause. I know that sounds silly especially because I am Jewish and have always been a critical thinker. But when I was younger I truly believed. When my grandparents invited me over to celebrate Christmas I gleamed with excitement. I planned a trap, I would sit near the chimney hidden all night waiting for Santa. Checking the alarm clock my grandparents had in their living room it was around 12:00 at night. I began to wonder to myself if he was fake just like the tooth fairy but I could not. How did the cookies disapear my family hates cookies and sugar, where did the presents come from how did my dad keep them from me for so long? Santa must've known what I wanted I put my letter in the mailbox all by myself. He got it right, too, he got exactly what I wrote to him. He came to me in a dream the night prior on the 23rd telling me hes coming. Looking back this absolute obsession and rationalization of saint nick led my brain to come up with an answer. I vividly remember the distraught this led me onto. That night on Christmas eve my dad found me half asleep hiding behind the couch at around 1 am, I never really thought twice about it seeing as he did not have any presents and he stays up late anyway and always has. I never got my answer I was furious at my dad for taking away the answer I so desperately craved, at the point I did'nt care about the presents ide be more happy with an answer, which i find ironic as my dad just wanted to give me the gifts i specifically asked for. I think thats a metaphor for parenthood but i digress

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