oh yeah. Crackers.

I like to think there was a time to heal, a chance to recover, an opportunity to live. But the more I learn and understand about why, the way things are the way they are, the more life simply ceases to have hope in it.

Have you ever taken a factory tour? Back in the school days they would bus us around. I remember, very young, (gift shop which lead to a present, which lead to babysitter #2, so 7, maybe 8.) well I guess it was the first for me, it was a communion factory. Christ crackers. They even had a church connected to it where priests would bless them before transport. I didn’t catch a glimpse of a holy spirit then, nor any time in my life, but seeing that really took the mystery out of it for me. Were my favorite cereals done the same way, where does all this stuff come from anyway?

Maybe it was the same with Christmas, visiting a Toys R Us and realizing the very same things Santa brings down our none existent chimney, are the same things sold in stores. Were elves also producing things for nationally large businesses that advertised in magazines and on tv? It didn’t make sense, I honestly I don’t think I ever believed, in the fat man or the thin tortured man. I remember trying to convert my sister from this illogical belief; ‘he’s all over the world, in everyone house, all in one night? He’s everywhere, all the time, even in the bath with my bubbles? Your bubbles?’ Her fragile mind just couldn’t take it, punishment ensued. Doubts remained. An unconvinced apostate in rooms of classmates that simply gobbled up the not-truths, without even cheese.

I suppose the truth never needs to be questioned when everything that you encounter runs congruent with all of it. Of course Santa is real, we have toys. Of course mommy loves you, she ‘loves you’. And when mommy doesn’t, when your presence summons the same affect you experience in the house of worship, something isn’t right. It may never have been, or ever be.

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