Santa is real. He is a symbol of love, charity, hope, dreams. He is the love of God. He is the smile of bouncing children. He is the missing cookie. He is the help of neighbors. He is the secret gift on your doorstep that paid the bills. He is holiday specials. He is reruns. He is being employed. He is visiting a sick grandparent. He is covering the change. He is the holiday spirit.
I feel as if I believed in him more this year than ever. As money got tight, as I bought gifts, as I recieved help from others, I believed. As I exchanged gifts with friends who loved me no matter what, I believed. As I prayed for strength, I believed. As someone said they wished he was real, I believed.
As
dawn nine in the morning approached., I saw a plate covered in crumbs where there had once been cookies, and a glass of milk half empty. Santa had come alright, but not just Christmas Eve.
