Dear Santa,
It has been some time since I have written to you, I hope all is well. You see, a lot has changed since the last time I wrote. People around me have come and gone, I learned to love, I grew physically, mentally and emotionally, and I for sure want very different things this Christmas. Although all these changes have taken place, I feel as though some have stayed the same. So I write to you today to ask, one last time, for something for Christmas...
When I was just a kid I questioned how real you really were, I mean all the presents from you were wrapped in the most marvelous gold and white glimmering paper with perfectly placed white bows plastered across the top in bold red letter, "Dearest Elizabeth From: Santa". So clearly it was hard to not believe. The pictures of you were everywhere I turned. There were even years I was sure I heard you downstairs rustling through your sack to leave me all my presents that I thought I "deserved". But now, looking back on it I can't help but think of all the times that I definitely did not deserve all that I was given. When I would see donation boxes for less fortunate children so they would have presents to wake up to in the morning I questioned you most. "Why can't Santa just bring them presents?"
It wasn't until later when the sad news was broken to me, that there is no one singular Santa, but millions of "Santas". At first I felt let down. What was real anymore? This charade put on by adults to make money and crush dreams? Classic marketing stunts. But in reality, even though there may not be only one Santa, that idea of just one stood for so much more than presents and a big jolly man with a white beard. Because, yes, that version of Santa is a marketing stunt. But the Santa I'm talking about is the one who's job is to bring joy to the hearts of young children who wake up Christmas morning with hope that this big jolly man didn't miss them last night. That no matter what walk of life you may be from, he loves and takes care of us all the same. The Santa that truly is the heart and soul of the Christmas spirit. Because that's exactly what he is and stands for, "the spirit of Christmas".
So Santa to seven-year-old me is a lot different than Santa to the nineteen years old me. Santa then was gift-giving and mysterious. Santa now is the joy in the hearts of the ones I love, the gleam in my little cousin's eyes, the hint of magic that is in the air, the unusual kindness that everyone seems to spread around the season.
So this year, all I can really ask for is that the spirit doesn't disappear. That among all of the busyness and hectic days leading up to and including Christmas, that we all can have a moment where we stop and remember what it was like when we once believed. When the wonder and awe this "Santa" used to bring us, the innocence of the jolly old man. That for, if only a moment, we look at the world around us through the eyes of a small child, beaming with joy and the miracle that one was and forever will be Santa Claus.
Love,
the child within me who will never stop believing
