Once upon a time, an introverted child named David, myself, lived in a village in Madrid. I always waited enthusiastically for the whole year for Christmas time, my favourite time of the year, and even nowadays I still do it. Christmas is a wonderful time for children and for those, like me, who still feel like kids.
That year, my parents, with the parents of the other kids of the building where we lived, had rented a Santa Claus costume . On the Christmas eve afternoon I was playing at home with my neighbour, Israel, when suddenly the doorbell rang and I ran to open the door. And you know what? It was Santa Claus.
My neighbor said “I think he is my dad“. I didn’t listen to him because I believed in Santa, and I still believe in him. He was right, it was his dad. His father, a former bodybuilder, was the perfect Santa Claus; short with a huge belly and with big and red cheeks. My dad said to Israel: “come with me to wait for Santa in your house”.
Santa gave me a present, a wonderful circus of Playmobil with a couple of lions, a tamer and some clowns. I was the happiest boy in the world. The real Santa, in person, had given me, thanks to my parent’s effort, that pretty gift.
Father Christmas kissed me and left. I went to the window to see Santa’s sleigh. My sister and I were waiting several minutes and although I don’t remember it well, but I am pretty sure that we imagined the sleigh with Rudolph and the other reindeers.
Meanwhile, my father was waiting for Santa in the basement of the building to exchange the costume with him and to go to Israel’s house where Israel was waiting for the real Santa, my dad.
I played with that circus over many years. More than twenty years later I gave the circus (with the box and everything in perfect condition) to my cousin Alejandro. My dad and I assembled it carefully. When we finished, my cousin jumped on it and he broke it. I asked him “why did you do that?” He answered “I don’t know, I enjoy it”. I was so disappointed with that behaviour…
You are not going to believe me, but one year I met the Three Kings. My mom, my sister and I went to town for Christmas shopping. The Three Kings were there. After a long queue and after paying, a man took a picture of me and King Gaspar. But someone stole my mother’s purse with the picture’s receipt inside it.
They didn’t want to give us the picture without the receipt but I still have my picture with King Gaspar in my mind. We were able to return home thanks to someone who gave us money for the bus tickets (the thief had stolen all our money).
Every year, at Christmas time, I went with my mom, my aunts and my maternal grandmother to the city centre to see the wonderful Christmas lights. We didn’t have much money but always we were able to do something exciting, like when we tasted those delicious truffles sitting on a bench on the street or the first time in my life that I went to Burger King.
One year, we were walking around the city centre, and we entered a store. My grandmother said to me: “I have to write a letter to the Three Kings, so show me what you want”. I liked a small garage. Some years later, when I was already a teenager, my mother told me “that day when you were waiting in the queue (in the line) with your gift, you were even walking on the street carrying the bag with your garage”.
I spent much time playing with that garage and a couple of cars. I had a great imagination, maybe this was the reason because I didn’t realise that I carried my gift that day. Imagination, magic and when you like something you don’t want to change it.
As I like Christmas, I still believe in these magic things. Some people like Christmas for religious reasons; other people because they like family life, and others because they like shopping…but at Christmas time, everyone seems like a better person in a better world.