I grew up believing in Santa. I used to think that he has all these powers and magic and spells that he could travel the world as fast as a lightning and deliver gifts to kids all over. I would always behave too knowing that if I was in the “nice” list, I would certainly get my favourite toy as a gift.
I remember the letters I wrote to Santa when I was young. I would specify the toys I wanted for Christmas because I didn’t like Santa getting too preoccupied looking for the exact toys that I liked. I used to tuck those letters under my bed because we didn’t have any Christmas stockings. We just had a Christmas tree. I must have written several letters to Santa in one given Christmas season because sometimes, I would change my mind and would ask for something else instead. I’m pretty sure my parents made up addresses in the North Pole like christmasplace department 56 north pole or something to that effect because I was gullible. I believed in my complete innocence that he was real and he would give me my gifts.
Well, of course, I know now that the “Santas” were my parents. I would always get the gifts that I like for Christmas. Although in some cases I didn’t, I never felt bad because I knew I would get them next year if I behaved really well.
Those where the days and in my heart, if you’ll ask me if I believe in Santa at this modern day and time, I will be happy to tell you that… I still do.
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