Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Cutting the Last String

If you are a young child, either young in years or young at heart, you may not want to read any futher. In fact, I would encourage you not to read any more because I am going to speak of Santa now, and well...you may not like it.

Once upon about 13 or so years ago, I sat before a smoldering fire late in the evening with my mother on a peaceful Christmas Eve. We sat, talking of things that didn't really matter and memories of Christmases past, people we missed, friends we were looking forward to seeing, and such. And as the embers began to fade, I became particularly aware of how tired I was.

I was 12 years old, and though I had been sheltered from a number of youthful exploits, but I had little question in my mind that Santa was a figment of youthful imagination. I always have considered Santa to be a real idea, even now at 25. And people can surmise a great deal of comfort, or enjoyment, or anything else they see fit for their own piece of mind. I don't ever want to loose the mysticism or gain the skepticism that would lead me to loose sight of that idea, spirit, or what ever you choose to call it. But on this night, all youthful delusions would be wiped out.

As instinct or maybe reflex would have it, I turn to my mother before I headed up to bed and said "well, do you think I should leave some food out for Santa this year?" And she turns to me as plainly as a person ever could and says "Aw hell I don't know...do I have to eat it this year?" The room fell silent until we errupted into laughter. We laughed because it was funny. We laughed because it was true. We laughed because we knew that we had been mutually humoring one another for several seasons now. We laughed until it wasn't funny anymore, and then laughed some more because we were still laughing at something that was no longer that funny.

And even now, more than a dozen years later, I can't help but giggle at the abrupt ending to every child's holiday understandings.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Christy said...

You poor child. Have I scarred you for life? Love, Me

8:29 PM  

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