With the start of a new month I’ve decided to set myself a challenge of blogging every day. Usually I’d procrastinate and say I have to wait until January so I can do 365 days of the calendar year, but in light of this being a journey to change, I’ve decided to go against my slightly OCD nature and start now. To get me going I’m using the 365 days of writing prompts available right here in the wordpress files and would love for all of you to join me.
So without further ado, here goes, day 1.
Hear no evil.
The day I found out Santa doesn’t exist. It is silly season after all.
I’ve heard many conversations in my time that I wish I hadn’t. Work conversations that dish dirt you know you’re not meant to know and then have to keep secret, awkward conversations where you catch the end and completely misinterpret the whole situation, adult conversations between your parents and their friends talking about all the gross things you pretend they don’t do, conversations where people were talking about me or people close to me, bus conversations when people don’t realise you’re listening.
The list goes on and on, but one that particularly came to mind when I read this topic took place a long time ago.
Before the days where information was so easily accessible online, and children stayed locked indoors, we used to actually believe in fantasy and use our imaginations.
The whimsical world of fairies, elves, reindeers, leprechauns, unicorns and pots of gold at the end of rainbows seemed so real to us. The topsy turvy lands created by authors like Roald Dahl, Hans Christian Andersen, Lewis Carroll, and Enid Blyton were all too familiar.
I grew up wishing I would stumble across my very own Secret Garden filled with all these mystical beings. My cousins and I used to spend hours collecting flowers and other gifts for the fairies to enjoy in our fairy ring. And we’d be thrilled to wake up in the morning and find the gifts they’d left for us in return.
Maybe it was because we had a teacher for a mum so she never lost her childlike attitude, but we were definitely the lucky ones. Children these days seem to miss out on all the beauty there is to being a child. Locked up inside playing video games and never really venturing outside where they have to use their imaginations to have fun.
Anyway I digress, this story takes place on Christmas Eve 1997, I was 9 years old and still believed in Santa. To this day I still remember looking up in the sky one night (obviously a very long time ago) and seeing his sleigh fly by. Then the evil forces of reality came crashing down and I was saying goodbye to Santa. We used to go to our neighbours’ house every Christmas Eve as they had a pool and this was a great way to keep kids entertained for hours while the adults did their thing. Yes I live on the side of the world where Christmas is usually 40 degrees and we hang out by the beach or a pool.
This particular Christmas Eve was no different. We got home from our neighbours relatively late (we always had to rush home before midnight to make sure we left our cookies and milk out before Santa came, and of course the carrots for his reindeers). Once we were all tucked up in bed our parents would then fulfil their Santa duties. This was the night the fantasy ended. The night I decided to go to the lounge room and try to see Santa, low and behold I heard my parents voices, talking about where they would put the gifts and who would go eat the cookies. Being a fanciful kid I didn’t let that phase me, but then I saw them with my own eyes and I couldn’t pretend anymore. Santa was gone forever. From then on he’d only be seen in movies and books and I’d know he wasn’t real. But I still kept the fantasy alive for the sake of my brother and sister and that was just as fun.
I just hope kids these days aren’t so caught up in video games and tv that they miss out on the magic of Christmas.