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Ever since finding out the truth about Santa as a child, Christmas has never really been the same. It has slightly lost that excitement and belief of magic that we all had as children.
The first incidence where I almost believed that he wasn't real was when I was pretending to be asleep and I heard 'Santa' in my room carrying a bag of presents. I then heard the fella curse under his breathe as he tripped over my toys.... My room was a mess as a child. I was never told to clean it up, but I would do it myself as the clutter would get way out of hand. So at that instance I thought I had heard my Dad. But I let it slip from my mind, saying that it was impossible!
The actual moment where I found out the truth was when I was probably nine or ten.... I was old enough to be believing in magic. I had found the presents in the boot of my parents car. My heart was broken!
I was happy though with the school that I went to, with everyone made sure not to tell the other kids. I remember playing on with still believing just so my parents (Santa) would keep giving me gifts.
I miss getting excited with seeing Santa being on the tv and the announcement of him landing in Ireland. My dad would play jokes on me and my brother, where he would be stumping around in the attic, or he would get the ashes from the fire and splash them a little on the rug, implying that Santa had come down from the chimney. I remember thinking how funny it was seeing the bitten mince pie beside the empty glass. "Santa actually ate that!" I used to have my relatives always dressing up as Santa Clause. They knew how much I loved him! My aunt dressed up one year and knew I was with my mum and brother driving to my Grans house. I saw Santa in my Grans field, waving at us and strutting up the field again as though he was on a catwalk. Such a funny memory!
Sometimes I think my brother would be excited just because I was. Strangely enough I think he had no idea what was going on. He just knew something good was gonna happen! Brothers huh!
When I spend Christmas Eve night with my Godmothers kids and my cousin, I get all hyped up, putting on my best "Santa's Coming" face. I just love to see them so excited. My aunt (dressed as Santa) also came into my house another year when my grandparents were visiting from the Caribbean. My granddad played Santa one year at the community centre but unfortunately lost his beard, so he opted for the dishcloth. Trust me the kids were extremely confused!
I remember my favourite Christmas gifts were a bike and some Harry Potter books. Mum knew how I kept getting complaints from my Primary school teacher saying that I would never return them. Then also I got a gift from my dad, when he drove me up with his cousin to visit my mum and brother in Dublin. He treated me to this little ugly monster of a teddy, Ferbie! He would kinda talk, but with a weird Stitch kind of voice. He made me laugh anyway up until where he annoyed me so much that I threw him in my wardrobe under all of my clothes and left him there. I still remember his voice in my wardrobe as I tried to sleep.... heehee. That Christmas memory will always stay with me. As me, my cousin and my dad drove home from Dublin, Ferbie on my lap and listening to "Driving Home For Christmas".
Deep down I do still believe in a little bit of magic. Sometimes I feel as though there's a spirit in the room or that I'm not alone. I feel as though there may be witches and wizards out there. I just get that magical belief feeling from time to time.
Let me know any stories ye may have about your Christmas memories.
