Menopause

Santa: Here’s to the Believers

Beyond the tooth fairy, I’ve never been a hardcore believer in fairies. They never seem to sneak into my house to dust and leave tiny specks of glitter to let me know they were here. And I’ve never had a fairy whisper something encouraging in my ear or wave her wand and take away ten pounds.

But Santa? Of course!

When I was little, my family went out to dinner on Christmas Eve. Seems like an odd tradition now, but perhaps in the fifties, some people ate out on that important night. I remember being terrified that Santa would come to my house while we were at the restaurant, discover that I wasn’t in bed, and refuse to leave any presents. I was a believer!

And something in me still believes he’s in the sky on Christmas Eve. And let’s not forget Mrs. Claus, who is waiting for his return. In fact, I was lucky enough to interview Mrs. Claus a few years ago on Friend for the Ride. You can read the interview here.

Now I have grandchildren who are believers. And memories of a mom, a believer in all things whimsical, who painted the watercolor at the top of this post.

Here’s to believers everywhere. Believers in whimsy. Believers in kindness. Believers in justice.

May you have a believing sort of holiday, with much love from my house to yours!

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