I decided it was time I found out the truth. For years, I had been told about Santa Claus, a plumpy man in a red suit with a long white beard, who comes the chimney each year to give all the children gifts. But for some reason, I can’t trust this story. To begin with, on Christmas morning, I’ve always noticed that there is a lot of white hair everywhere. Tiny balls of fur always blow down the chimney and everyone always dismisses it as the work of the breeze. But I know the breeze isn’t doing this. I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach like there’s something obvious is glaring at me and like a fool, I keep missing it.
Not this year, I’ve decided. It is currently three o’clock on Christmas morning and my parents have finally fallen asleep. It takes so much to get adults to sleep these days. They say children are fussy but who will stop them from binge-watching twenty episodes of some Netflix series in one go and then being sleep deprived and running on coffee the next day. Anyway, I suspect the presents haven’t been placed so far. I know this because of the smell. On Christmas morning, there’s always a smell. Mum usually blames it on our cat- Waffle. But I know my cat. She’s far too fussy to go around smelling like that. Plus, Waffle’s loves for being clean, tidy and combed is partly the reason why mum found it so easy to fall in love with her.
It’s five minutes past three now. My plan is to go hide behind the big, red chair placed in the corner of the drawing-room. There are huge rubber tree pots next to the chair that will assist me in going unnoticed. Once I’m in position, I know I have a hard journey ahead of me. To begin with, it’s frightfully cold in the drawing-room right now. Because it has the chimney and that one window that we’re never able to shut properly. The next problem will be the fact that mom put the cookies outside on the table so that the minute we wake up (and brush of course!), we can eat our cookies on Christmas morning. It’s a tradition we have and I absolutely love it. In fact, the whole room will be smelling of cookies but I must not eat one. If I move out of my spot then Santa… or whatever it is may sense me and never come down the chimney. I can’t let that happen.
It’s almost four in the morning now. I’ve been freezing behind the chair for hours… or at least that’s what it feels like. I’m beginning to lose hope in my project now. I’ve heard Santa is efficient and comes at midnight but it’s been hours and the tree is sitting there, without any gifts. At this point, I feel like maybe mum and dad are the ones putting the gifts under the tree, after all, mum wakes up before any of us. That’s crazy, the cold is starting to get to me. Of course, Santa exists. But somewhere in my bones, the red suit, the white beard, all of it just doesn’t fit.
Something is coming down the chimney. It’s actually happening! I can hear it huffing and puffing. The sounds, they’re not human… they’re… it sounds like an animal… the tiniest little balls of fur are falling down the chimney now. Like snow, it’s landing gently on the few piles of wood and coal that sit in the fireplace. He’s coming out. It’s… it’s a polar bear? He is gigantic, nearly ten feet tall, his giant white head is almost brushing against the ceiling. He’s standing up on his hind legs, looking around the room, sniffing… He’s like a ball of white fur, so soft and the way he walks is almost, gentle and loving. I know I should be scared, I’m a kid facing a polar bear but, he seems like he’s here to help. He can’t stand normally on his hands and feet because of the glass coffee table, which he’s trying to avoid. He has the same look on his face as I do when I’m trying really hard not to break anything. Slowly moving towards the Christmas tree, he’s taking out these tiny, blue and white boxes with golden wrapping. He’s facing towards me now! His monstrous shadow engulfing the tree, which seems like a toy in his presence. The lights are blinking fast, flashes of red, green and blue. His eyes shine like the lights, they’re black and they’re, looking into mine… almost like he can see me from behind the chair. Suddenly, I’m in a zoo, I can see children looking at me, smiling, laughing, touching their hands to the glass trying to pet me. But I’m not happy behind this cage and some humans can see it. They talk about it every day. The sad polar bear who wants to go home to Alaska. The sad polar bear wants to be reunited with his family. The sad polar bear wants to see snow and wants to move freely. The sad polar bear doesn’t deserve this. Suddenly I’m in Alaska. I can see my mother walking in front of me, she’s so happy to see me. She’s slightly shorter than me, older but in her, I can see nothing but love. She reminds me of all those children who used to visit me at the zoo. Their infectious smiles flash in my mind. They compel me to do some good. Perhaps I can give back to them, one day a year, I can give the children the happiness that they gave me. In that dark and depressing zoo, the only thing that helped me survive were their smiles, I have to make them smile.
The polar bear is looking straight at me and I’m back in my drawing-room. I felt like I’ve travelled across the world through those big, black eyes. I don’t know why but I’m smiling. He’s smiling back and waving. The polar bear in the living room is waving at me. I blink for a second and he’s gone. With a smile on my face, the gifts under the tree, there’s fur all around the room, the sun is beginning to fill the room and it’s Christmas morning.
Time for cookies.
