I still believe in the Magic

Careless Thoughts

A Bad Memoir of Little Memories

(Warning: Don't let kids read this, it will destroy Christmas for them.)

I can smell it in the air –

The wind is changing –

The leaves are bowing out of the fray –

And things are moving to the night a bit quicker than normal. Summer is on its way out, even if it is trying to hold on tightly. The heat of the day might not feel like autumn, but those are the failing clutches of a dying season. The best thing about the season changing is –

                                                                                Not the pumpkin spice lattes

                                                                                Nor the endless colors coming to the world

                                                                                                But the holidays are coming in

And with them, comes the magic of the season. I love Halloween, Thanksgiving but most of all I love Christmas. Christmas has always been the time of year where my family came together. Some of my happiest memories are during my family tow Christmas parties – one for the Currie’s, the other for the Solomon’s.

                The Currie’s – I grew up next door to my Grandfather and Grandmother Currie – had their family gathering on Christmas Eve, and you could not miss it unless you were not in the country. My Grandfather would hunt you down to bring you to the party, it did not matter what you were doing, and you had no choice the matter you had to be there. He made it a must in the family, and no one fought him on it. They knew they won’t win.

                What I didn’t know as a child was his birthday was near or on Christmas. (I still don’t know, odd, huh?) He had grown up on a farm with thirteen sliding and every year instead of having his birthday he makes sure his family had their Christmas. After all growing up on a cotton farm, picking cotton wasn’t exactly the most enrichening lifestyle for the Curries. Where they had a lack of money they made up with joy and love. It’s where my Grandfather gained his big heart of gold.

                And my Grandfather Currie loves seeing the family together. I’m sure all my family has their stories of those parties. (I have many more to come about those Christmas parties, by the way.)

                But –

                                There had been a time in life when I didn’t live next door to the Currie’s.

                In fact, we live in an apartment –

                Where I met Dain (my friend from the other story link here.)

                In Concord. It had to be about forty-five minutes’ drive to get to the Currie’s house from our apartment, we took it almost every weekend. One year, when I was very young, and yet –

                                                                I’ll never forget this

                We came home from the party to find Santa Claus came early for us. We were so good that year he came to see us before he went to another house. We walked in to find all of our toys were lining the living room and couches. We – my sister, my brother, and I – dashed for our toys and spent the whole night playing with them. The next day at the Solomon’s party we told anyone who would listen about Santa Claus coming early for us. (A bit of the excitement was rubbing it in our cousin’s noses. We knew they were not as good as us.)   

                We believed – as true as any child could believe – the magic was real.

                No one at the party left, not my Grandfather, not my uncles, not my mom and dad … no one left the party to set up the toys. It had been magic –

                It was magic.

                I went many, many years believing in the magic of that one single night, until … my dad destroyed it. (I’m still a little bitter about it, by the way. I don’t care if it has been ten years, still not happy about it.)

                The night my father destroy the magic of Santa Claus for me was when my sister was living in Harrisburg for a while. We all, the whole family including my cousin Allen wanted to go see a movie, but the boys wanted to go see a boy movie  --- *wink wink*

                So, my sister and my mom took the kids into the talking animal movie of the year while my dad, Allen, Chad, and I walked right out of the theater, jumped into the car making our way back home. Even brought tickets for a show to sell the ruse.  

                Now, I have known for a very long time that Santa Claus was not real. I found out this fact because of my Grandfather Currie give it way. After we - the kids – went to bed he would come over and help my dad and mom set our Christmas. He did it every year, never missing a Christmas, but he also couldn’t wait to see us smiling at the gifts. So about an hour after they sat everything out he would come into our rooms to wake us up.

                “Santa Claus came,” he would whisper shaking me awake. “Come see what you got.”

One night, I didn’t go to sleep fast enough and found out who Santa Claus was, but my dad –

                Being wise in this matter –

                Would always tell us,” Santa Claus is real as long as you believe.”

                Finding out my Grandfather had been Santa Claus for so many years of my life didn’t bother me at all. To tell you the trust, it made it all the better.

                On the ride back to my sister’s house to set for Santa Claus coming early for her children, my dad told me how he set up our Christmas for my one signal night of magic.

                “Oh, I got our neighbors to do it,” he said.

                “No, Dad, you got Santa Claus to do it,” I said looking dead at him.

                “Chase, I’m telling you it was the neighbors,” he said with a big smile.

                “You are destroying my childhood right now, you know that, right?” I told him.

                “You are twelve-one, I think you can handle it.”

                I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t handle it, well at all.

                We tore down my niece and nephew rooms, putting in all-new beds, toys, and many other things in there. We had a short time table to get everything done, for we had to be back at the movie theater to meet up with them to keep the ruse afloat.

                The only problem came in when my dad’s truck got stuck in the back yard, digging trails into the dirt. We all jumped out of the house pushing the truck free, hoping we could beat the clock, and we made it back by the skin of our teeth.

                We acted like nothing was out of the normal talking about our movie and taking the kids home like we were all going to get dinner at my sister’s house. They freaked out at first because we stacked their old beds on the side of the road. They ran into the house sure someone had broken in only to find that Santa Claus had come to visit them before anyone else.

                Later, my niece pulled me to the back window pointing at the sled trails left by my dad’s truck.

“Look, Santa’s sled.”

I smiled telling her –

“Santa Claus is real as long as you believe.”

I still believe if you want to know.

Sure, I know he is not real, but the magic of it all –

                                                                                Now that is real.