He is real.

Kiddie City bags. Left by the basement door. Found on Christmas morning.
This is how I discovered the truth. You know, the Big One. The Big Truth about the Big Guy.

I can't say I was shocked. I had been poking holes in the Santa theory on my own, silently, as I wanted to keep up the facade for Jenna. But I always wanted to believe. Even though, deep down I knew that it couldn't be possible - somewhere deeper down...I felt the magic.

The magic of going to bed on Christmas Eve and feeling like something really special was about to happen. The magic of waking up with butterflies. The magic of creeping down the stairs and seeing that, somehow, all of exactly what you wished for is right under the tree.

At 28, I almost still want to believe in Santa. Waking up on Christmas morning is vastly different these last few years. I usually sleep on the couch in my Mom's apartment. We sleepily open gifts and then decide who is showering first so that we can make it to breakfast on time. (We never do.) I predict that this coming Christmas morning will be even more different, as I will be waking up at my new home, with H.

Seeing this post brought back some of that magic though. Just a different kind.

Be the Santa in you.