Driving home, we were talking about… I don’t know…. everything… when he said “It seems like adults hide a lot of things from kids.” I felt the sting of accusation.
“It’s not that they want to hide anything good from you. It’s to protect you.”
“Protect us from what?”
“Bad things. Hurtful things. Sad things. We remember the carefree happiness of childhood and want the same for you.” He gave me a funny look. “Or some of us had short childhoods and want our kids to have more than we did.”
“I never used to think adults could feel like kids do. I didn’t think they could be sad.” I glanced at his face, so serious.
“All adults were kids once. Every one of them. Some things you don’t lose. We feel – just like you; just as irrationally (smile) and deeply. Most of us learn to hide it as we get older. This is what I mean. This is what changes. The sadness – it eats away at childhood, at innocence, and we have to protect ourselves. We try to protect you, too.”
“So you cover up your feelings?”
“It’s like putting on armor, I guess.”
“Oh.” He stared out the window and I wondered what was on his mind. Death? Divorce? Sex?
“You can always ask me anything. I’ll tell you the… I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
I stopped the car and he turned to me. “Is Santa real?”
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