As a part of going to see Santa Claus each year, my mother would save the picture of my sitting on Santa’s knee. She would display these in our dining room each holiday season. When I was six years old I vividly remember reviewing the pictures of three previous visits to Santa. I had a question.
“What is it, Topper?” She called me Topper. I don’t know why.
“In these three pictures, Santa looks different. Which one is the real Santa?
“I believe they are all Santa, Topper.”
“No, Mom, that can’t be. The one in the middle is the real Santa. The others must be Santa’s helpers. Santa can’t be everywhere, all the time.”
I wasn’t ready to let go.
There was a time I thought we were both wrong and I didn’t believe in Santa Claus. A few years later I began to believe Mom was right, they were all Santa. Today I believe we were neither right nor wrong. Simply, we both believed in Santa Claus.