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This post was originally published on December 7, 2007. I received a good feedback from this post that I thought it’d be great to publish it again on December 19, 2008.
This year 2011, in honor of the feastday of St. Nickolas, also known as ‘Santa Claus’, on December 6th, I am, again, republishing this post.
There was a time in my childhood, when I really believed in a magical Santa Claus, who comes at Christmas Eve and fills up my favorite ‘sock’ with chocolates. All our questions about Santa Claus were dealt with by my parents by simply replying “… magic!”. We would imagine all sort of stuffs, like, he would transform into thin air to get thru the little opening in the door to get in. (We didn’t have chimney.)
At Christmas morning, my sister and I would rush to the homemade Christmas tree that my mother made, where we hung our favorite ‘socks’. I remember being so excited and delighted with a handful of chocolates we got. We compared chocolates. I remember my father teasing us about who got the most number of chocolates. But of course, it’s the same number. I guess, that was his way of joining in our excitement.
One Christmas came. I think I was 7, my sister was 5. We had to stay with an aunt due to a family crisis. My father was stabbed with a knife early December that year. He was in the Army, and it happened when he was on duty. He was hospitalized, had to undergo series of operation on his belly and lungs. He was in critical condition until Christmas time. My mother was with him every day in the hospital. It was a difficult time.
At Christmas Eve, after attending Midnight Mass with my Aunt, she told us to get ready to sleep. I remember telling her about Santa Claus coming later that night and that we need to hang our socks. She said sort of in panic, “Di ba natanggap mo na nga yung gifts mo galing kay Santa Claus?”(Didn’t you receive your gifts from Santa Claus already?!). She was talking about the Christmas Family Get-together earlier that day, when we received our gifts from my grandparents, aunts and uncles.
I didn’t argue with her because Mama told us to behave. And at that time, I kind’a figured out already about the concept of Santa Claus. I was learning about St. Nicholas in the Catholic school and sharing that to my sister. We just never got any confirmation up until my Aunt spilled the beans.
That Christmas, we didn’t get our Christmas ration of chocolates from Santa but we got the most number of Christmas gifts we have ever received. My sister and I became the recipients of all the unclaimed Christmas gifts my aunt prepared for her god-children who didn’t come to see her at Christmas Day. Not to mention, the overwhelming help we received during that family crisis.
That Chrismas I learned the reality of Santa Claus. That from magical, he becomes real, as he is personified by our loved ones and those who truly care and make our Christmases extra special.