Dear Santa….

 

Dear Santa,

I know it’s been a long time since I’ve written to you. I’m in my 40’s now. You’d think I’d be able to just get whatever I want for Christmas, go out buy it myself, sweet talk… whoever into buying it for me. Whatever. You… you wouldn’t think that I’d feel the need to write to someone that at my age I shouldn’t even believe in anymore. But Santa I’m really hoping, I’m praying, that they’re wrong, that you do exist, that somehow miracles can happen.

You see Dad’s not doing well,and I’d kinda like to do something about that, you know? I can’t stand that he isn’t doing well. And I kinda need your help. He can’t breathe well, and he’s on oxygen, and uh, and I’m terrified, I don’t really wanna lose my Dad, you know. So if you can maybe think up something, some way, some manner of making it all better. I’d really appreciate it. And you know, if Dad gets better then Mom’s stress will go down and maybe she’ll be healthier too. And ya I’m just kinda terrified right now, I’m afraid of losing my parents. One to lungs that don’t wanna work, one to stress so high that she’s pretty much bursting into tears regularly.

Santa I’m scared, and inside of me is that 5 year old girl. The one who knew all she needed to do was write to Santa, who rarely ever asked you for anything. The one who said “hey my sister would really like…”, the one who always sent you Merry Christmas Santa, and have a safe flight.

And I don’t know who else to ask. Because everybody prays to God, and everybody’s asking him for so much. And I don’t think, I don’t even know if he hears me. But you always used to.

So, Santa… can you hear me?

Much love,

Have a safe flight.

Merry Christmas Santa