My uncle pointed up at the twinkling lights in the dark Kentucky night sky and said, “There he goes back to the North Pole.” And that was it. I believed. I’d just met Santa at the mall and there he was in the sky, flying home with my Christmas wish still warm in his ear.
For years after, that memory would keep the faith alive in my heart. He was real. I saw him flying in the sky. Of course it was a plane, but it was Santa’s sleigh, it was, it was, it was his sleigh with all his reindeer. Until one day it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It was just a plane.
I wonder what it is keeping Santa alive for my kids now. It’s definitely not me. READ MORE