Monday, 26 November 2012

The Whole Of The Moon

The five year old says Santa isn't real. I tell him this is rocky ground - that Father Christmas deals not with those who disbelieve. Elves - sharp of eye and ear - hear and see it all. Walk the walk and talk the talk - or Christmas morning shall be bleak indeed.

He back tracks then - says it is a joke. Wishes not to put this logic to the test. But my heart sinks, and I wonder how sure he really is - what older, wiser, bloody child, has enlightened my son too soon.

Leave Christmas well alone. Burst not the glittering bubble of a little boy. Keep face before a truth which cannot be untold. A threshold to all that is real - and ordinary - in our world. I overcompensate, in my race to smooth damage already done. May it be enough.

Five and the whole of the moon. Too small - too cruel - and too soon... x

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