My grown-up Christmas list
I know it's been a long time since I truly BELIEVED. I have always loved you, though, even when I may have acted like I was too cool for you. Please forgive me for my lapses in Christmas spirit.
Christmas reminds me of my grandmother. Gram passed away in January of 2000, just a few weeks after I had seen her for Christmas. She showed me where she had stashed a baby blanket she was making for me, even though I wasn't even married at the time. She was thinking ahead, which was so like her. She lived in Ft. Lauderdale, and we had a green Christmas almost every year of my life; we loved going to the beach every day of the season. Since she didn't have a chimney, as a child I was very concerned about how you were going to deliver our gifts on December 24, and Gram reassured me that you had a spare key and could get into the house just fine. My sister and I bought it.
After that last year with her, Christmas wasn't the same for a long time. I missed Gram's three-day cooking extravaganza, the white ceramic tree on top of a large folding table that served as our Christmas present station, the relatives and friends who would come to visit around the clock while we were visiting, and her soft cheek as we snuggled on the couch eating Italian cookies. When she was gone, I didn't want to go back to her house. I knew I couldn't go back to Christmas the way it was, and it hurt. As years passed, my parents started visiting the west coast of Florida to see my aunt and uncle instead, and we created new family traditions.
Now that I have a three-year-old little boy, Christmas is magical again.
In 2010, he knew who you were, and we let him warm up to you at a small party before we took your picture with him. I didn't want to subject you to a crying baby; I'm sure you see enough of them. Last year, he wanted to talk to you again and again. He's definitely into Christmas: every time we would get in the car, he would say, "Pees find ki-mah-tee" [please find a Christmas tree] and we would point them out along the way wherever we were going. We skip along the sidewalk to look at the neighbors' lights; together, we sing "you'd better watch out, you'd better not cry..." and we smile and anticipate your visit together.
This year, my son has already seen you three times, and he bounds up to you with such excitement he can hardly contain his energy. I appreciate that you said, "I love you" at the Galleria; the way he said, "I love you too, Santa" melted my heart. He had asked you for a bell, just like the child in the movie Polar Express; if you could wrap up a spare sleigh bell for him, that would terrific. We'll take care of the rest.
Santa, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you for just a few things, if it's in your power. I can't get these things on Amazon, or ToysRUs, or Macy's. My grown-up Christmas list has a few tough-to-find or out-of-stock items, but I believe in you. I've been pretty good this year. Not great, but good.
Thank you, Santa. I love you, too.
Love,
