As you may or may not know, I live in Florida. Right now, it is 79F outside, sunny and it does not feel like Christmas at all. My inflatable snowman in the front yard looks a little ridiculous surrounded by green palm trees. Same goes for the Santa and the reindeers display since if Santa ever landed by my house his landing would have been really rough, having no snow and all. Or maybe his team is used to a grassy terrain?
So it’s Christmas…. but with no snow it is missing that…. je ne sais quoi. I can’t enjoy a hot beverage by the fireplace since I am already in a tank top and shorts. It is too hot to have the fireplace going. My only snowflakes are the ones I hung up on my tree (DIY for the win, ya’ll!!).
I probably should have gone to a snowy place this year. But money is tight and I don’t like to spend money on what I cannot afford. I am sitting on my couch, reminiscing my days in Europe. Honestly, I am re-reading parts of my book because the way I described Jenna’s snowy days in France are legitimately what takes me back to the days of snowy bliss.
So what is Christmas with no snow? Well, it is weird. It feels like something is missing. You may say Christmas is about Christ. Spending time with your family. For some it is about presents. And it is all that. But there is something even better about going to church on Christmas, marching through the snow, hiding your cold hands tucked deeply into your heavy jacket, breathing heavily into the wool scarf, and snowflakes falling on your head.
***Merry Christmas everyone!!***
I hear loud arguing between Anna and Tim. We were given a recess, but instead a horrible fight broke out and everyone stayed inside. As I came closer, I could hear what the arguing was about. Anna was determined: “I know what I saw. It was my Mom who put the gifts underneath the Christmas tree. Not Santa! That’s because Santa doesn’t exist!” My heart stopped. My belly jolted. “You’re lying,” Tim accused her. “No, I’m not!” she cried. I was in shock. My developing brain was struggling to comprehend what had just been said. How could Santa not be real? I’ve been writing him letters for years! He’s been bringing me gifts each year; with Rudolph leading the way to my house. Why would my parents tell me about Santa if he wasn’t real? Why would my parents lie to me?
To this day I am hurt by the lies my parents told me about Santa. Why does it matter, you ask? It matters because despite the joy it brought me, it also brought me horrible devastation. For a young kid like myself, who spent hours reading and imagining different worlds, the non-existence of Santa was like a slap in my face. I could not believe people I trusted put on a charade, a show for Christmas. They made me write letters… they made me put cookies down for him. They made me believe he was real.
I do not have children of my own just yet, but I still struggle whether or not I should lie to them about Santa too. It gets even more problematic if I tell them from the start that Santa does not exist. Then, other parents will complain that my children ruined Santa for their children.
I don’t know why this lie has to continue. I know children are happy to hear it, but when you realize your parents lied to you and that it was them the whole time…. well, it kind of shows that even those you trusted lied to you. So, on the flip side, is Santa actually supposed to be a life lesson? As in, do not count on those you trust because they are not trustworthy either?