I was an imaginative kid. I believed that many of the inanimate objects at home had very animated inner lives, and were really invested in the day-to-day activities of the family. There was also a cast of fantastical characters that included the usual suspects of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.
These familiar myths were deeply sowed in my fertile imagination by my parents and siblings. They were skilled at telling me stories about these fantastical beings; complete with very detailed descriptions of their personality traits, likes and dislikes, and job responsibilities. I was convinced my family had firsthand knowledge and personal encounters with them all. I thought it was fun and exciting. I believed in them all; for a while. I regret that it didn’t last longer.
Peer pressure in grade school compelled me to search for Christmas gifts around the house. I never hunted for presents, until my friends at school sent me on that fateful mission. I believed in Santa Claus. I understood Santa didn’t deliver gifts until Christmas Eve; while you were sleeping. I learned otherwise; when I discovered wrapped gifts in the basement cedar closet; one afternoon. I was about 8 years old. I regret looking for the gifts. I regret finding the gifts. I regret that a childhood myth was demystified; far too soon.
For this weeks entry I’m sharing an early picture of me and Santa Claus. I regret that I didn’t hold onto that relationship longer.
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