My Christmas Holiday

Right after I stuffed my face with turkey and mashed potatoes and before I celebrated the new year, I beamed as bright as the star on top of a Christmas tree each time the festive holiday was mentioned. It was truly the happiest time of the year. At the age of nine, in a time where possibilities were endless, I witnessed a Christmas miracle.

No matter what holidays you celebrate, the average person has heard of Santa Claus at least once. Through coloring books, Christmas movies, and carols, I found out who the man from the North Pole is. Santa Claus, a chubby man with rosy cheeks and a long beard as white and soft as freshly fallen snow, breathes peppermint air and radiates joy. He travels around the world on the night before Christmas delivering

By this time, the other kids at school influenced me so greatly that I no longer blindly and faithfully accepted that Santa was real. I would have to see him with my own two eyes to believe it. The most exciting event that occurred at the party before twelve o’clock was the ugly sweater contest. It occurred during my phase where I considered myself “too cool” to participate in games so I stood in the corner of the room, sweaterless, with my older cousins in middle school who shared the same mindset. They discussed everything they absolutely needed to receive this Christmas while I nodded along silently, my hands wrapped around a ceramic mug filled with steaming hot chocolate. I watched the rest of my family show off their matching silly sweaters without me. My aunt announced they were the winners just as a loud noise could be heard from outside of the front door.

“Did anyone else hear sleigh bells?” My aunt questioned loudly, catching the attention of all the children in the room. She handed my parents a gift basket filled with treats.

Someone rapped quickly on the door again but this time I heard the sleigh bells jingle distinctly. My aunt smiled and rushed to the door, opening it to reveal a tall man in a red

I was certain he was the real Santa because he fit the description to a T and knew my name, something he could only have known from reading Santa’s list. The rest of the awestruck kids and I followed behind him closely, our minds overflowing with questions. I listened intently as, one by one, each child had the chance to sit on Santa’s lap to talk about their year and what they wanted for Christmas. When it was my turn, my heart leaped and my breathing quickened. It was huge turnaround from hours beforehand when I couldn’t have cared less about the happenings of the Christmas party. “Hello Elyzsa,” Santa handed me a red and white striped candy cane, “What would you like for Christmas?” I responded,“for everyone to believe that you are real!” Then truthfully added a few moments later, “and a Playstation 3.” When I returned to school in January, no one believed my ridiculous story that I met Santa Claus in real life, although they were impressed with my new