Dear Santa, I was wrong last year…

17 Dec

Dear Santa,

Maybe I was wrong last year. Maybe all the things I spoke about and dreamed about were never meant to come true. I mean, you came last year, you visited me where I asked, but you left as soon as you came. That joy, that love, that warm and fuzzy feeling, is gone now, Santa. Last Christmas I gave him my heart, and in the past few days, he gave it away. Santa, I loved him. I love him. He was my rock in an ocean of sadness and rainy days. He’s gone now, Santa, just as quickly and suddenly as he came.

I don’t know why he left me, Santa, but all I know is that I’m scared. I’m scared to be alone this season, surrounded by people that forget about me, shove an envelope at me still wet from licking it moments before with some money in it. Last minute. An after-thought. I want a Christmas tree, Santa. Christmas songs. Cookies baking in the oven. A fire in the fireplace. I want Christmas.

Instead, Santa, I’m just trying to put one foot in front of the other. To keep moving forward. I wish more than anything I could just fly away right now, Santa. To ride in your magical sleigh with the wind in my hair and forget, even for a second, about the sadness deep inside. I want to live again, Santa– to truly live rather than simply survive.

Dad has a new wife this year—half his age, and double mine. I met her a week before the wedding and was asked to be the witness. I did it. I resent her, and I resent him. She just wants her Green Card. He just wants a young wife. A trophy wife. A foreign wife. I just want to be a daughter again this year, Santa. I want to be that little girl that plays carefree in the snow, eats cookies till her belly aches and wakes up early on Christmas morning to a slew of presents under the tree.

But more than anything, Santa, I just want to be remembered this Christmas. I want him to remember me and just how much I loved and appreciated him and us. I will miss being there, nestled in front of the fire, gingerly unwrapping presents and seeing his face light up when he saw the level of thought that went into his gift. I want him to remember me and just how much he meant to me: that he gave me something I had only dreamed of having, and will continue to dream about once more.

Santa, remember me this Christmas, okay? I need some Christmas love, some joy, some spirit. Send me some of your laughter in a card – a warm HOHOHO! or maybe just a wink with that twinkle in your eye. I need a sign, Santa – I need something to hold on to. I’ll be physically around people for at least part of the holiday season, but I’ll be the only one looking for you. For Christmas.

Hopefully we’ll meet again, Santa—but until next time : Merry Christmas.

Love, Ghost-of-Christmas-Past


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