When I was little, I always got a little sad when Sinterklaas went to Spain again. ‘Hello Sinterklaasje, daahag, daahag’ may be a cheerful melody, but I still found it painful to hear and singing along was difficult. It had been so nice and exciting. Place the shoe in the week before December 5. Add winter carrots for the horse. A little hay too. And then freaking out the next morning because the carrot was gone and there was something tasty in the shoe. Perhaps I was even happier with the proof that Sinterklaas had really come all the way to our house than with a sugar frog and some gingerbread nuts. And then Sinterklaas evening itself still had to come. Beautiful. Those songs and the restlessness. But then came the farewell to Sinterklaas. He went back to Spain. It can’t always be a party, they taught us.
On Saturday mornings I often went with my mother to grandpa and grandma. Mom would put the curlers in at grandma’s house. We were also there on a Saturday after December 5th. Grandpa and grandma asked if I had received a nice present from Sinterklaas. Grandpa said he only had a bag of salt. And that he was so very happy that he had not had to go to Spain in the bag. I was very happy about that too. Grandpa was very sweet.
I started thinking. What if I wasn’t nice for a year. Have a big mouth. Break stuff. Place a thumbtack on the teacher’s chair. That work. Maybe the next year I would be taken in a bag to Spain. It must have been very beautiful there. And maybe I could help Santa with writing poems.
Turns out I wasn’t naughty enough. The next year I just got another gift and not even a bag of salt. Another year later we learned in class that Sinterklaas did not exist at all. That was a blow. I really believed it. I asked if Jesus and God were also fictional. I wasn’t allowed to say that. Of course they were real.
Now it is another Saturday after December 5. Much is gone forever. A lot took its place. Beautiful things. Bad things. Fortunately, Christmas is coming. A party that you can always be touched by, without necessarily having to believe in anything.