The holiday season is a special time of year filled with jolly spirits and warm feelings. The tree is decorated, your stocking is hanging over the fireplace and you can’t wait until the one night you go to sleep and wake up to a floor full of wonderfully wrapped presents. However in 2008, my favorite time of the year would come crumbling down and never be the same again.

One evening in December, I sat on the floor arguing with my two older brothers over which Christmas movie to watch. My mom, who works for AT&T, and claimed to have the phone number of “everyone in the world,” said if we weren’t on our best behavior that she would call Santa and be sure to let him know we belong on the naughty list. I immediately sat up straight and became overwhelmed with the fear of being put on that forbidden list. I proceeded to ask my mom what kind of cookies she thinks I should make for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.

Before she could even think to respond, my brothers burst into laughter. I naturally assumed that it was because I was asking what kind of cookies he would like instead of what kind of milk. I then started laughing too, I mean, what if that year he wanted chocolate instead of regular? How silly of me not to take that into consideration, right? Wrong. As I was making a mental note to remind my mom to call Santa and ask which milk he would prefer that year, my brother blurted out “Santa isn’t even real, Hannah!” I sat very still for a few seconds, then with a slump of my shoulders and a trembling bottom lip, I descended into a puddle of tears and sadness which would last for the next few weeks.

I lay there on the floor for the next 50 minutes wallowing in my emotions. It may seem a tad bit dramatic, but I was a 9-year old who had just had a chunk of her childhood ripped away. All the cookies I had made, all the letters I had written and all the curiosity had been for nothing! It took me a while to let it sink in. I knew some of my scars would never truly heal.

Now that I am older and more mature, I know that Christmas is more about giving back and celebrating a special time of year rather than a very nice man in a big red suit giving kids everything they ask for.

However, I will always appreciate the glorious days where I still had the concern of how early I would need to send my wish list to Santa so it would arrive at the North Pole on time. So to all the older siblings out there who are old enough to know the truth, don’t be the Scrooge that ruins the idea of the jolly man in the big, red suit. Instead, let them know that he in fact enjoys sugar cookies with a nice big glass of chocolate milk and some extra carrots to give the reindeer for the journey back home to the North Pole. Trust me, I would know. My mom called and asked.