(no subject)
I have no idea what year i wrote this.
Just walking past stores outside on a cold night and hearing a christmas song faintty coming from inside, seeing pretty lights up on a house, all these things alone make me feel light as air and so happy I might burst. Why is this Christmas happiness so overpowering? I can only come up with one conclusion, dear old St.Nick. Perhaps it was because ever since I could fathom the existence of Santa, I saw all other things in my mind as being real. If Santa existed of course all the miracles in the world were possible. If some little gradeschool brat tried telling me that fairies weren't real, I reminded them that Santa Claus existed, flying reindeer, elves, and so I would settle it. The fact that I became purley obsessed with Santa has not left my memory. All day and night I'd imagine what was happening at the North Pole, and think of really tough questions to ask Santa in letter I'd place next to the cookies. When Christmas eve would roll around I'd be dancing around, singing, giggling, and overjoyed. I could even feel the magic in the air. Shaking with anticipation in my bed. "Go to sleep so Santa can come" my parents would say. How could my parents expect me to sleep on a night like this, reindeer would soon be landing on my roof, Santa would come down our furnace and put sleeping dust over my dog, he'd place toys, lots of toys under my tree and eat the cookies set out for him. It was the hardest task I accomplished each year. The actual Santa Claus would be in my house that night. I would lie still, close my eyes, control my breathing and make it as relaxed and slow as possible. I'd be almost there and then a picture of a sleigh in a star filled sky would fill my head. I'd chatter my teeth in excitment. Pretty soon, the body gets exhausted and I would soon be in dreamland. This state of unconsciousness would not last long though. At 4 am my eyelids would get restless and soon I would find myself in a bed wondering if santa had come already. I would hold still, try to fall asleep, then my bladder would ruin it for me. I would nervuously tip toe to the bathroom and get a glimpse of the shiny crisp wrapping paper. My teeth would chatter uncontrolably. I would hurry out of the bathroom and beg my parents to wake up. They would always say the same thing "one more hour". So I would sit and wait right in front of the tree. I would swear my whole living room felt different. The sound of the furnace would kick on and the smell of new toys filled the air, Linus would be sitting on a chair all warm and cozy. I would pet him carefully while asking him wide eyed if he had seen Santa. I touched Linus's fur as if perhaps Santa had run his hand over my cats back as well. Soon my family would uneagerly get up. I would tear into the presents, already having counted them all and seen which ones I was to open. Each year it was the same, I get an incredible high for the few hours of playing with my toys only to be suddenly hit by exsaution and feel naseated from too much excitment, so little food, and so little sleep. I would unwillingly take a doll or some other sort of toy back with me to a dark room and make up the sleep I had missed all December. So perhaps it is little wonder why my heart feels so overcome with emotion when I hear a familiar Christmas song, some jingle bells, or even a few twinkling lights. I will always be that child around christmas, my imagination only grows each year. I still know that St.Nicholas is real and he lives through all of us during this time of year. I only hope that one year I can make my own child as crazy about Christmas as I am.
Just walking past stores outside on a cold night and hearing a christmas song faintty coming from inside, seeing pretty lights up on a house, all these things alone make me feel light as air and so happy I might burst. Why is this Christmas happiness so overpowering? I can only come up with one conclusion, dear old St.Nick. Perhaps it was because ever since I could fathom the existence of Santa, I saw all other things in my mind as being real. If Santa existed of course all the miracles in the world were possible. If some little gradeschool brat tried telling me that fairies weren't real, I reminded them that Santa Claus existed, flying reindeer, elves, and so I would settle it. The fact that I became purley obsessed with Santa has not left my memory. All day and night I'd imagine what was happening at the North Pole, and think of really tough questions to ask Santa in letter I'd place next to the cookies. When Christmas eve would roll around I'd be dancing around, singing, giggling, and overjoyed. I could even feel the magic in the air. Shaking with anticipation in my bed. "Go to sleep so Santa can come" my parents would say. How could my parents expect me to sleep on a night like this, reindeer would soon be landing on my roof, Santa would come down our furnace and put sleeping dust over my dog, he'd place toys, lots of toys under my tree and eat the cookies set out for him. It was the hardest task I accomplished each year. The actual Santa Claus would be in my house that night. I would lie still, close my eyes, control my breathing and make it as relaxed and slow as possible. I'd be almost there and then a picture of a sleigh in a star filled sky would fill my head. I'd chatter my teeth in excitment. Pretty soon, the body gets exhausted and I would soon be in dreamland. This state of unconsciousness would not last long though. At 4 am my eyelids would get restless and soon I would find myself in a bed wondering if santa had come already. I would hold still, try to fall asleep, then my bladder would ruin it for me. I would nervuously tip toe to the bathroom and get a glimpse of the shiny crisp wrapping paper. My teeth would chatter uncontrolably. I would hurry out of the bathroom and beg my parents to wake up. They would always say the same thing "one more hour". So I would sit and wait right in front of the tree. I would swear my whole living room felt different. The sound of the furnace would kick on and the smell of new toys filled the air, Linus would be sitting on a chair all warm and cozy. I would pet him carefully while asking him wide eyed if he had seen Santa. I touched Linus's fur as if perhaps Santa had run his hand over my cats back as well. Soon my family would uneagerly get up. I would tear into the presents, already having counted them all and seen which ones I was to open. Each year it was the same, I get an incredible high for the few hours of playing with my toys only to be suddenly hit by exsaution and feel naseated from too much excitment, so little food, and so little sleep. I would unwillingly take a doll or some other sort of toy back with me to a dark room and make up the sleep I had missed all December. So perhaps it is little wonder why my heart feels so overcome with emotion when I hear a familiar Christmas song, some jingle bells, or even a few twinkling lights. I will always be that child around christmas, my imagination only grows each year. I still know that St.Nicholas is real and he lives through all of us during this time of year. I only hope that one year I can make my own child as crazy about Christmas as I am.