A "Truthful Tuesday" question from Elizabeth over at "Confessions from a Working Mom".
Today, she asks, "Is there a Santa Claus?"
Let's set the scene: It's Christmas Eve. I'm a wee-little girl all of 8 years old. And I loved to read. (Still do - but that's not relevant to the story). Back to the story: I loved to stay up and read in bed. And so - it's late one Christmas Eve, and I'm in bed, reading. With the covers over my head, of course, and a flashlight. Because that's how I'd get away with staying up late and reading every night, so the evil parents didn't catch me.
Anywhoo - I'm reading, very happy and content, in my little "blanket fort", when - all of a sudden - I hear a loud THUMP on the roof.
I am NOT joking, my dear readers. There was seriously a thump on the roof.
Adrenaline shot through every vein and artery of my body - from my brain to my toes - and I froze. Although my heart was racing along now at 200 beats per minute - sounding like a bass drum - THUMP, THUMP, THUMP - as I was petrified....
Was that Santa????? OH MY GOD!!!!! Seriously? Was that Santa on my roof???!!! Did his sleigh just land on my roof? OH MY GOD!!!! I'm AWAKE!!! I'm not supposed to be AWAKE!!!! I'm supposed to be sleeping!!!! CRAP!!!!
I sat there in bed, trying to not. move. a. muscle. Even to the point of holding my breath - because God forbid, if Santa saw me breathing, he'd know I was awake. Or that's what my 8-year old logic told me.
Now, at the house I grew up in, we did not have a fireplace. My parents always assured me that the lack of a fireplace would not stop Santa from coming into the house - perhaps through the front door - and they were always right. Every year, we'd still get presents from Santa - no fireplace and all - and so that year...I listened, very carefully, for the front door to open.
And I could hear it open!!!! I kid you not! Very slowly...and then, I swear - I heard footsteps coming up the stairs (we lived in a split-level).
About this time, I was pretty close to a heart attack. I wondered what my parents would do the next morning when they found my lifeless body in bed - would they know what caused it? I could just hear my mom the next morning: "Oh, look, honey - it's the Drama Queen - She must have been awake when Santa came - we always tried to tell her, but would she ever listen?! Oh, no - not our little D.Q. Stubborn little thing, wasn't she?"
After a few minutes, there was another loud THUMP on the roof - and then - I kid you not - I heard sleigh bells....
The next morning, I told my parents what I had heard the night before. They gave each other a "look" - that I didn't understand at the time, but now as a parent, I totally understand. It's the look of, "My - don't we have crazy kids - but you gotta' love them and their imaginations!"
But. I know the truth. I know what I heard that night. I really did hear all of this. And so - I DO believe in Santa. I've never stopped believing.