Christmas is a season of love, joy and laughter. For children it's also about receiving gifts from Santa. And everybody have their own perfect Christmas. Read on to find out the nostalgic yet a twisted story behind my Real Santas.
It was another cold December 23rd and as rendezvoused with the colony children, we snuggled around the huge blazing bonfire with our warm chocolate drinks topped with mellows and cookies that we had baked earlier. Carols were sung and the little children began to talk about their perfect Christmas.
A young boy in his early teens dressed in an oversized gray hoodie and pyjamas, started narrating his perfect Christmas on how Santa couldn't turn up at his chimney that year but fortunately his elder brother had gifted him instead. He ended up saying that it had been the best year.
Similar stories of how each child had their best moments under the Christmas tree unwrapping their dream gifts were narrated with glee.
As I took a sip of my drink, I began to walk down the memory lane to the year when I had spent Christmas with my grandparents.
It had been quite a roller coaster ride for me on Christmas Eve, that by the struck of eight I was dozing at grandpa's arm chair and had given up the idea of waiting for Santa to turn up.
It was already half past twelve when I was awaken by a beam of light rays which had entered my room creeping through the door. Out of curiosity, I crept near the stairs and saw both my grandparents placing different gift boxes under the huge well- decorated Christmas tree. I then watched in awe but still half- recovering from my sleep I decided to save it for the next day and retired back to sleep.
The next morning, the whole household ran up and down greeting each other. Oh! how I wished everyday could be the same. I greeted grandpa and then walked towards the kitchen to wish grandma. The kitchen was already filled with the pleasant aroma of grandma's freshly nut-baked cake.
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Grandma reminded me to check the Christmas tree in case if Santa had left me my gift. Without a word I sprinted to the tree and found myself gazing at the huge gift box that Santa had left under the tree.
I squatted near the tree the moment I saw the gift tag which had my name on it. Although I was half asleep the previous night I still remembered vividly that it was the same gift box among the many that my grandparents were placing under the tree. A tear ran down my cheek as I began to awe at the efforts that grandpa and grandma had put to make me happy. I rushed back to the kitchen and hugged them both for I knew I've founded "my real Santas".
Before I could continue to reminiscent the rest, a little girl who sat next to me had interrupted to ask me if Santa really existed or is just a mere figment of imagination. I had gone astray and the rest had kept silent and were waiting for me to answer. Keeping myself in thought that if I ever answered them with a "No" I would be shattering all their dreams of waiting up for Santa each year and being a killjoy.
I then smiled and replied, " Santa lives inside each one of us. It is a duty for us to trust and believe him. And then one day you'll find 'them' placing your gifts under the Christmas tree".
They all smiled widely with satisfaction and the rest of the night was warm with as sound of laughter filled the night air accompanied by the blazing bonfire. Deep down I smiled at myself for they didn't get me when I had mentioned Santa as "them" and not "him".
