Do you believe in make believe?

The Christmas Eve I was five, I woke my little sister, took her by the hand, and made her sit at the top of the stairs to watch our parents take our Christmas gifts out of the closet below the staircase. My objective? To prove to her that Santa wasn’t real. I don’t know why I did that. I don’t think I was a particularly mean sister. I can’t even remember how I knew Santa was make believe.

The odd thing is that I believe in make believe. My  parents didn’t discover us peeking, apparently my sister didn’t rat me out, and I went along with the Santa storywishstar for years after that night. Science can’t explain everything. Religion tries. Children simply believe. As we get older, we lose some of that capacity for hope against all odds, the certainty that, if we wish hard enough, it will be so. Star light, star bright …

I reserve room in my imagination for the magic of fairies, and elves, and unicorns, of ghosts, and Nessie, and Bigfoot. I think that’s only fair. When I offer you my writing, I ask you to enter a world of imaginary people, in imaginary places, doing imaginary things. I ask you to believe in my make believe.

And I’ll do my best to write it well, so no big sister will whisper in your ear and destroy the illusion.

Endnote: If you read this post and took any comment as a slight to your religious beliefs, please know that I had no such intent.

16 thoughts on “Do you believe in make believe?

  1. I love the snow. I love make-believe. I spent a lot of time alone as child and lived there a lot. I used to fly at night and it’s real to me now in my memory and as it was to me then.

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  2. I think the company you keep, Linda, would all relate to this post. Every day I enter a make believe world and try to make it a little more real. I love being a writer. Great post.

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