It was the roaring of the chainsaw that got my attention. It wasn’t immediate though. It had been whistling for who knows how long before my ears tingled. Still, I paid it no mind, forgoing the urge to investigate. It wasn't until my daughter rushed into my room frantic, with darting eyes. “Mom, our play set is gone!” My ears heard her clearly, however, my heart and head lulled in catching up. “What do you mean?” I said with genuine curiosity. “Our play set is gone! There’s a man in our backyard destroying it!” The moments that followed were a perfect manifestation of my life as of late. I watched as the worker dismantled our beloved play set. He would place the pieces in his truck and haul it away. Something that had brought us years of unmitigated joy was slashed away in less than twenty minutes. In truth, I had arranged this happening weeks ago. The actual date of the dismantling was left open ended due to my gardener’s busy schedule. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise when it happened. Yet it did. A jolt to my psyche sent me into an acute awareness that the old adage is true; the only thing constant in this life is change.
If you've been following my essays you’d know that this year in particular has brought about huge changes in my life. Most notably, in the piece, “The Way We Were,” I detailed the trauma of selling my childhood home. I am in fact still mourning that loss; with sadness swelling in waves when I least expect it. In retrospect, this parade of changes started well before the dawn of 2017. It was in 2016 that my son raised suspicions regarding Santa. In quiet moments, his analytical nature led him down a path of examination. On his own, he'd determine that Santa simply could not exist if all were true. He started the interrogation with the most innocent of questions. “Is Santa a real human being?” “Yes,” I’d exclaim assuredly. “Well then this couldn't be true. If Santa is a real human being he’d be dead by now. If he was around for our grandparents, how could he still be around for us? Think about the life span of a human being.” And with that it was over. Nothing to explain or debate. He agreed to keep his discovery to himself in an effort to protect his sister’s innocence and fun. He would spend that last holiday season seemingly guarding it with his life; resuming the business of awaiting Santa’s sleigh at nightfall as usual. I was guarding it as well; launching into full elf mode once their eyes closed.
This year finds us all without guards as our daughter has had her own reckoning with the truth. I was partially relived. I carried a fear that because of her age, her expressed belief would welcome ridicule from her peers. Naturally, sadness followed. Another tenant of their childhood, our lives, gone. My daughter, however, has commanded a different perspective from us.
We’ve always kept Christ’ birth at the center of our holiday. That fact has never been challenged or debated. After an open discussion it was agreed upon that the joy of the holiday season did not lie in the mysteries of Santa’s plight, but the magic created at home. And since that production was curated and produced by yours truly, it doesn’t have to end. In fact, this season we will be welcoming in a new chapter of celebration. Still Christ centered, there is now a willing suspension of belief in play. For us, Santa is now a spirit; one that is alive and well in all of us. For us, Santa is the embodiment of giving and goodwill, coupled with a little bit of holiday magic. And that is just fine for us. Yes, another tide has turned. One of many more to come. Yet, with this passage of time, we wave goodbye to this chapter with reverence and joy; forging ahead to new memories and transmuted traditions to come.
