Father, dear Santa

As a child I read somewhere that Father Christmas, or Santa Claus, lives in Korvatunturi, in northern Finland 8212; north of the Arctic Cir...

As a child I read somewhere that Father Christmas, or Santa Claus, lives in Korvatunturi, in northern Finland 8212; north of the Arctic Circle and that children and adults from all over the world send letters to him.

I was obsessed by the idea of writing to Santa 8212; and possibly getting a gift from him for my pains. So I toiled one whole evening but failed to write anything impressive. My father came to my rescue. He dictated a short, yet warm, letter to Santa and we decided to mail it a month in advance so that it would reach in time. For days together I dreamt of a weary postman making his way through the snow just to deliver my letter to Father Christmas.

As the school closed for the Christmas vacations, my mind became Santa8217;s workshop. I actually imagined a jolly, rotund, red-nosed Santa, dressed in fur-trimmed red, placing gifts into stockings hanging over the fire place. It worried me no end that we did not have a fire place in our home. But Dad had a solution. 8220;Don8217;t worry, we8217;ll hang our stockings outside the door. It would save Santa a lot of precious time,8221; he said.

Thoroughly convinced, I hung my favourite red-and-blue stockings outside the main door on the night before Christmas. Until midnight, I strained my ears to catch the familiar 8216;Ho, ho, ho8217; of Santa, until the silence of the night lulled me to sleep. Early in the morning, I jumped out of bed, threw the front door open and 8212; to my delight 8212; discovered my favourite toffees and a gift lying just for me. Excitedly I opened the gift to find a miniature Santa inside the box. I had never felt as elated as I did at that moment. I had just turned seven.

Since then, Santa helped me solve all my problems. I remember telling Dad how I wished someone would help me find a solution to my division sums. Dad responded, 8220;But for that you have your small Santa.8221; And it did seem as if Santa really helped!

Life moved on. I grew up and soon realised that my Santa was none other than Dad. Gifts from him continued to delight me. At one point, Dad himself moved on, and I did not even find the time to ask Santa to save him. With his passing away, I realised that Santa is real because he is finally all about love, faith and generosity.