Not long to go to the 25th now, and the shops are getting busier by the day.
In years gone, I’ve done my fair share of queueing for the latest toy, getting in the food and wrapping up gifts, worried about how they’ll be received, if they are enough and then struggling over the next few months to pay for them. It tends to crush the adult spirit, but then it all depends on who you’re with. Times change.
So here you go:
today, with no holds barred, no criticisms or inner voices saying “no” – you get to write a letter – to —- Santa Claus. As the child you once were, or still are, buried deep beneath all the layers of having grown up.
I believed for years, and still believe in the magic and specialness of Christmas, despite its commercialism and profiteering.
I can’t remember if I ever wrote to you, but if I did, you must have honoured my letter as I had some wonderful Christmases growing up.
Thank you for all the presents and excitement you brought to our house. I hope you liked the wonky decorations we’d made and hung up, and thanks for putting our stockings on the bottom of our beds for Christmas morning so that Mum and Dad could have a lie in.
Thank you for my letter so many years ago apologising for being unable to get my gift down the chimney and had left it in the roof. Dad helped me retrieve my bike from the attic, and I rode it in the lounge because I didn’t want to get the wheels dirty.
Thank you for those special days spent with family, no matter how many were present or how erratic their behaviour, the fun we had, the films we watched, the food we ate, and the painkillers and antacids we took to compensate our overindulgence.
Thank you for the love I had, the love I gave, and the love I shared.
Thank you for the Now. The person I am, the person I share my life with, and our four legged furball baby.
There is nothing I want or need for Christmas. It’s all here already, but don’t just drive by, pop in and have a cup of tea and a mince pie if you have a minute to spare. I’m sure I can rustle something up for your reindeer too and hope they will let me get close enough to pet them.
Drive safe, and make so many children aged 0 to 100 as happy as you made me.
Di (aged 62½)