Belief

I was seven years old when my cousin Kenny told me that Santa Claus wasn’t real. I vividly remember sitting in the living room next to the Christmas tree with one of my dolls as I wondered aloud if Santa was going to bring me the pink stroller I had been begging for since Labor Day.

“You’re so stupid. If you get that dumb stroller it will be from your mom because Santa isn’t real.” And with that, he smacked me on the back of the head and walked out of the room. Though twelve-year-old boys should really never be allowed to tell seven-year-old girls anything, I was particularly devastated by this news. Sure, I’d had my suspicions about Santa but believing in him had always seemed to work out for me. Why it was just a year earlier when I had asked for and received the Fischer Price tape recorder – the most high tech item a six-year-old could ever get her hands on! (Sidebar: I still have tapes from that brown, FP tape recorder. One even has me singing Puff the Magic Dragon. I was so thrilled I could record things that my head almost exploded when I opened the box on Christmas morning.)

I looked at the lights on the Christmas tree and started to cry. I cried big, fat tears because I didn’t want to believe what my cousin had told me. I think I already knew but no one had ever said the words and as long as no one was saying anything, then I could just go on believing. I sat clutching my doll and made a decision: I didn’t care what Kenny said because I knew that Santa existed.

Christmas morning rolled around and I sat next to the tree in my footie pajamas as my mom handed me presents. I had already scanned the area looking for a box big enough to be my stroller. I didn’t see anything that would be the right size. One by one, the boxes were opened. There were books and dolls and new mittens. There was the obligatory ugly sweater from an older relative and really cool leg warmers from my really cool aunt.

I sat in the middle of a pile of shredded wrapping paper and discarded bows feeling very sorry for myself. Could Kenny actually be right? I decided that Santa was real but that like my mother, he wouldn't spoil me. I got enough that year and it was ok that I didn't get the stroller.

My mom got up to make breakfast and asked me to turn on some Christmas music. At the time, we had a gigantic stereo which was encased in wood and looked more like a piece of furniture. I walked over to turn it on and saw a box tucked between the stereo and the wall. I yelled at my mom who walked back into the living room with a smile on her face.

“Who is this for?” I was shaking with excitement; the box was the right size!

“Well, whose name is on the tag?”

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To: Kendra Marie
Love: Santa
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I let out a high-pitched scream and I tore open the paper.

Later that afternoon, we went to my aunt and uncles for Christmas dinner. My cousin, Kenny, was standing in the kitchen when we arrived. I, of course, insisted on taking my new present. I marched up to him and asked, “Who's stupid now?” as I rammed him in the shins with the pink and white stroller. He yelled at me as I walked away with a huge grin on my face, glorious in my victory.

That Christmas still stands as my favorite from childhood.

I’m bringing all of this up because I needed to remind myself that sometimes it pays to believe in someone.

I have been known to give up on certain people rather quickly. I have cut people out of my life for mistakes that were probably not nearly as egregious as I once perceived them to be. Always quick to judge and slow to forgive – that’s me. I’ve been known to implement the preemptive strike; I bail. My need for perfection is often unreasonable and makes some of my relationships very trying.

Don’t get me wrong, there are people who didn’t make the cut and didn’t deserve to make the cut. But for a few, a little time and a tempered tongue probably would have been a better way to handle things.

I guess you could say I’m still learning who I want to be when I grow up. I just hope that some of the belief I had as a child can make its way back - I think it would make a nice present to give to someone else.