Santa is alive!

I love Christmas...and I still believe in Santa. Why wouldn't I? He was always very generous with me....not because I was the best girlie in the whole world. Just because Santa is good. I was brought up in a country where we were told that Santa died...in a car accident. A shallow personality cult of an incapable president dictated this desperate measure. Nobody had to ever be more important than the president himself. And apparently Santa was. So they killed him. Hello people! This should never happen again! No kid has to ever have a beautiful fantasy demolished. As a little girl, I always knew that there has to be something wrong with the story I was told about Santa. Maybe he survived the accident, maybe good doctors saved him in a marvellous emergency service, I thought. I knew he was old, but miracles can happen. Old people survive accidents. Maybe not so old as Santa, but still... I read about him in "A night before Christmas". So he was already spreading gifts in the early 1800s. I also knew that his powers started with Saint Nicholas of Myra, somewhere in Byzantin Anatolia, as early as the 4th century. So, yes, he was old, but I believed in miracles (I still do by the way!). And let's be honest. How great medicine is these days comparing to the ancient times....

Dead of alive, Father Christmas left a Chrismas tree for me...ever since I can remember. And some prezzies...as many as my foster parents were able to afford. Now, the tree was the marvel because no pine tree was available. I told you that the bad president wanted Santa dead, so if he wasn't alive, then there were no Christmas trees. The truth was that it was forbidden to have a Christmas tree! However, my parents traveled for hours (and no, we didn't have a car!), from one little village to another one, hoping that they would find a pine tree for us children. You don't know how much they had to pay for it! A fortune really! But they always returned with the most beautiful Christmas tree, the tallest in the whole world. At least this is how I remember my Christmas trees. My parents used to tell me that the Christmas trees came from Santa himself who left them in a small village...for me only....which is true by the way. Santa has done that. He is amazing. 

There were always gifts under my Christmas trees...from Santa again!  Sometimes an orange, other times a chocolate bar. Times were rough in a poor country...with a bad, bad president! But no matter how hard it may have been for my parents, Santa always left me a gift. Not dolls, no...I had none by the way! Not even toys. Those were for Western kids...and I wasn't one of them. But I was a kid like every kid in the world and I got spoiled by Santa...as much as my parents were able to afford!

Every Christmas, my parents sang carols....for Santa...and me. Singing carols was forbidden too...by the bad president. But my parents knew better. They celebrated Christmas...for me! And I wasn't even an exemplary kid. Just an ordinary girlie, sometimes good, other times not too much! 

For me, Santa came back to life even stronger when I moved to my new country. How can I not believe in his powers when he came back from his grave? Like Jesus perhaps. However, I  don't worship Father Christmas...I just believe in his return every year...and I keep my hopes up. My parents taught me that! But I still remember that I was told that Santa died in a car accident and that Christmas trees haven't been allowed...by a bad president. Nor gifts...or Christmas carols. Not even Christmas itself. I also remember that my parents knew that Santa is alive and made every effort possible to keep his spirit going. Therefore, I would never understand why in Western countries, where Santa didn't die in any accident, kids are told that Santa is only a myth. Because he is not! He is for real and this is how it will always be. Let your kids be kids, no matter how old they are. Let them dream and allow them a fracture of a fantasy. Because if you do now, after years and years, they would remember about you, their parents...at Christmas...when Santa drops a gift for them. And they would miss Christmases you organised for them....and they would miss you...like I miss my parents who told me, against an antiChristmas bad president, that Santa is alive. And he will always be! Merry Christmas, guys! :)

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