Message for my Followers
When a child, I looked forward to the cold December evenings. It seemed they were always sprinkled with laughter.
After school, I climbed the scary tree in our backyard; scary because it looked like a skeleton under the winter’s moonlight. Bravely, I scrambled up its freshly bared limbs in the hope of seeing Santa coming.
It didn’t matter how hard I looked out from that tree or how long I stayed in its branches, I never once saw Santa Claus coming till he was here.
On those December evenings, I felt snug inside a home where the curtains were drawn early, dad poked the fire into life, and grandma’s legs were covered with a blanket.
After my bath, I’d make one last check out of my bedroom window. Maybe Christmas was close enough to see now? No, I never did see it, but the angled and leaning lattice fence outside my window, formed diamonds of moonlight on my bedroom wall.
Today, I remember those diamonds in a different way; as all the people vanished from my childhood.
You are all my online friends, knowing enough about each other to understand that our childhood is a distant memory. But I’m pretty sure we all earned our toys, the tinsel, and those precious times when we rejoiced in the coming of Santa.
Today, with the passing of each year, our lives are winding down. We pull our winter coats a little tighter, and maybe we still check the horizon for Christmas or think about writing that letter.
Dear Santa:
I thought I was past writing letters to you, since I am now seventy years of age, but just so you know, it was my dad who ate the pies that mum put in the hearth, and not me.
I saw you once, so I know you never got down our chimney. When I checked with Dad, well, he said you probably ate too many mince pies, so it was impossible as our chimney was small.
You looked mighty fine, your big red tummy, shiny black boots, and majestic beard. I could not believe my eyes. You were so tall, like dad, and heck, you even use the same aftershave, Old Spice!
I didn’t want to write this to you, Santa, because, well, it seems kind of foolish. But I decided I could write this letter and ask you for a Christmas wish. It’s kind of big:
Can you make sure that every single one of my friends, all those who have cheered me, lifted my spirits, enjoyed time with me; can you make sure they know they are loved back. The thing is, I know how huge my love is, I know its depth, its width, and sure as heck I know it won’t all fit in your sack, but maybe you can do that magic thing and touch their hearts this Christmas.
They won’t see you coming, I know that, no matter how long they stay awake, but if you would do this for me, I could believe in you…I could believe in Christmas. Thank you, Santa.
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Love is such a gift. I seem unable to write a proper thank you note for receiving all your praise and support. It has been a meeting of minds and hearts.
Whatever Christmas is to you, I wish you everything.
