Dear Santa,
I remember reading about the three stages of Santa Claus.
The first stage – I believe in Santa Claus.
The second stage – I don’t believe in Santa Claus.
I remember the very moment my older brother told me you didn’t exist. I jumped out of bed and was running to my parents’ room when he added, And there’s no Easter Bunny, either. I don’t remember if I made it to my parents’ bedroom or not; my childhood world collapsed in an instant. I had no words for how I felt at the time; in retrospect – mortified beyond chagrin would have fit the moment perfectly. I’ve never quite forgiven my brother, not because of what he said, it was the glee with which he said it … the rat.
The third stage, as I understand it is – I am Santa Claus, i.e. I become the gift giver.
But still and all, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m still living in the first stage – I still believe in Santa Claus; I still believe in you. Maybe not the Santa Claus Coca-Cola introduced in December of 1931, but I’m convinced you are real and you are there – somewhere, watching over me and everyone else on this planet, perhaps in the Universe.
I have no evidence to prove my belief; well, that’s not entirely true. There is evidence. I’m the evidence. I’m here, breathing, and thinking … about what I want for Christmas.
It’s only one wish but, it’s a pretty big one.
If you have a naughty and nice list, I’m probably on both – a little more on the naughty side than on the nice, but that’s for you to decide when considering my Christmas wish.
My wish has nothing to do with material things. I have everything I need in that department. It has to do with something more ethereal. I dislike the word ‘soulmate’, but I can’t think of a more appropriate word. However, I do like the term wind-beneath-my-wings.
The wind-beneath-my-wings I have in mind does not have to be perfect because I know I’m not perfect – far from it, but it should be someone with patience, someone who can deal with my foibles. And, they don’t have to be drop-dead gorgeous either, In fact, it would be preferable if they weren’t; if their soul sparkles – that would be perfect.
Right now I feel like a grounded yard bird. If you grant my wish, I know I could fly higher than an eagle and, perhaps even touch the sky.
I won’t list any more requirements. You know me better than anyone and can figure out what would be a good fit. You’re the best matchmaker around so, I’m relying on you to find my very own wind-beneath-my-wings.
Oh, there is one more thing. They should like animals – dogs, cats, birds, horses, lions, and tigers – especially lions, and tigers.
Thank you, Santa. I love you.
Merry Christmas,
Lynn Smith
P.S. I had to laugh when I discovered all of your reindeer are females. Who else could pull you that sleigh around the entire globe in one night without getting lost?
Fantasy
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Wow love this! I like how you describe the brother telling her the truth about Santa Claus. When I first heard about that, I cried and didn’t speak to my parents for awhile. I was super upset. ( True Story) There is a St. Nicholas. So there is a Santa Claus in a way.