The weather today could get extreme with winds gusting past 40 mph. Right now the tree trunks are bending, the oaks and the scrub pines. The wind is howling. Power outages are possible. It is raining but warm at 55°. I have to go out later. I need a couple of life’s necessities, dry dog food and cream.

When I was young, I was a firm believer in Santa Claus. I never questioned the anomalies back then, but as I grew older the doubts appeared. Seriously, all in one night? I remember my mother told me that Santa was magical. He could manipulate time. How big was his book of good and bad children? How could he know all of the children in the world? Yup, Santa was magical. Flying reindeer? Some squirrels flew so why not reindeer? My mother took us to see Santa every year. We knew it wasn’t the real Santa but a stand-in who could communicate with the real Santa who was home in the North Pole making toys with the elves. I remember my mother reading A visit from St. Nicholas to us. I had a few questions. Why did he eat the sash? It was no wonder he threw it up. There were words I didn’t understand but my mother explained. The reindeer were the coursers. The luster of mid-day meant the night was bright. Where was Rudolph in the litany of reindeer? My mother’s answer made sense: he wasn’t needed yet. The lines about the leaves and the wild hurricane meeting the obstacle in the sky totally threw me. I just listened. Santa, however, was perfect, exactly how I knew him. I loved how his belly shook like a bowl full of jelly and how he quickly filled the stockings then up the chimney he rose. I wished I had been the one instead of papa to see Santa.

I don’t remember when I knew for certain Santa Claus wasn’t real. At first, I couldn’t imagine my parents affording all the toys we found under the tree, but as I got older, the doubt became reality. I wasn’t traumatized. I even kept up the pretense for my younger sisters as believing in Santa was one of the best parts of Christmas.

I have several Santa’s for decorating. A few are the light-up plastic Santa’s from the 50’s. On my tree, a Santa and his reindeer are lights that hang on different branches and circle the tree. I have a needlepoint Father Christmas pillow I bought in London then needlepointed for my mother as a Christmas present. It came to me when she passed. I put it way up high so Nala can never find it. I have a Santa playing the piano. Who knew he was musical? I have so many more Santas they take turns as decorations each Christmas.

Nobody asks, but I really still do believe in Santa. Just look round.

This entry was posted on December 19, 2025 at 1:10 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.