SANTA!

I wish all the things you believed in as a kid were real when you grew up, especially Santa. I wish there was a Santa who had elves and a North Pole workshop to make toys to give to every kid on Earth. I remember the day I found out there was no Santa; my Debbie Downer neighbor playmate told me while I was rollerblading, and I had to run home through the grass to confront my mom because I wasn't even a good skater. Anyway, I refused to believe that my parents could pay for three kids every other day of the year, and then afford to throw in all those presents on December 25th. When I was little, I thought Santa was the ultimate justice for kids; I mean, he was the one thing that brought equality to children around the world for at least one day. The idea that someone was taking responsibility for the happiness of the entire world was so peaceful and reassuring, even when I was still a kid. I felt so much better allowing myself to think that an old man named Santa brought presents to kids who had no food, or house, or bad parents, or no parents; how had I gotten so lucky to go to bed every night with a Disney comforter and a handmade milkshake? The world just seemed so unfair, even as a kid I could tell and I worried. The problems of the world are overwhelming and exhausting just to think about, and it's hard to worry about things like poverty and disease when it feels like we will never find an end. When I still believed in Santa, I could relax and ease up on the worrying because he was taking care of everyone. I was such a little idealist; I wrote world peace on the top of my Christmas lists...and perhaps we can just ignore the fact that my request for peace preceded that for twelve different Barbies and a CD player. In the end, I always got some books instead-and no world peace.