I Believe in Santa Claus

I believe in Santa Claus. It's a faith that I learned from my parents as a baby that I have kept with me my entire life in one form or another. While I no longer believe that there is a fat man in a red coat who delivers gifts to all the good children of the world in one night with the help of his magical, flying reindeer, I do believe in the spirit of Santa Claus.

It has nothing to do with naughty or nice, with presents or stockings, with Christian faith or childhood fairy tales. But I do believe that there is something in the air around Christmas time that just gives people a sense of warmth and kindness towards the people in their life. Friends, family, colleagues. Maybe not so much with holiday shoppers or your run-of-the-mill hoodlums, but luckily, the people I care about have a little Christmas spirit in them too. A little Santa.

Sometimes it is just baking cookies for friends, or doing an extra favor for a co-worker, or putting up holiday decorations with your mom, or sitting by the fire that your dad built to fight the cold winter air. It can be an unexpected hug or a warm greeting. There is something that happens this time of year that I can't explain; it gets inside you and makes you want to share it. Giving that dollar to the salvation army guy ringing the bell on the corner, holding the door for the woman with the shopping bags, chasing after the kid who dropped his mitten in the snow to return it to him, or even just looking out the window to watch the snow fall and being completely full and content with that seemingly boring act.

So yes, I do believe in Santa Claus. I always have. It's not about the man, not about the gifts, not even about the bedtime stories. It is whatever is in the air during the holidays. I've never needed "proof" that there was really a Santa Claus, but it is nice to think that sometimes, when you least expect it, he can still give you a little wink.