©1993, 8" by 10", Watercolour
This image, which I drew in 1993 in pointilism style, is meant to re-enact a scene from my childhood.
When I was around 8 or 9, my babysitter told me that Santa Claus didn't exist. I was devastated, and spent the next couple of years trying to disprove her, even trying to show that it was still possible by using complicated math equations that took into account time zones, planetary rotation, and the percentage of people who don't celebrate Christmas.
Eventually, one Christmas Eve, I found myself staring out the window wishing that Santa was real, and looking for a sign. At that exact moment, a large drift of loosely-packed snow slid free off the roof, and the wind pushed it into the window.
Suddenly, all I could see was a wall of white, and it threw my senses into overload, and I fell away from the window. It was too much for my adolescent brain to process, and I immediately ran to bed, convinced that, if the window hadn't been there, the snow would have reached in a grabbed me. It was clear, I reasoned, that the elements were in cahoots with Santa, and had conspired to teach me a lesson about faith.
I resolved never to doubt Santa's existence again, and I never have.