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As Long As There’s Christmas: My Grownup Letter For Santa, 2015

Funny, watching Tim Allen play the role made me want to write this letter.


Monday, December 7th, 2015

Dear Santa,

It’s been a while. I would’ve paid more attention to getting this letter to you in time, but it’s not like the old days. Now there’s email. You should get this immediately, as is the way in our world, instantaneous.

I wrote you last a few years back, when I wanted something very badly, as an adult. As an adult, I suddenly no longer believed in the idea that even you could make any dream come true. I know you didn’t ever just bring a little girl a pony, just because she asked for it when she sat on your lap.

This does not make you any less magical. I had my doubts there, and still have my days, but then I tell myself you know what we want, as children, long before we ever know ourselves.

Children soon learn that dreams don’t always come true, but we adults do our best to postpone just that eventuality, and you play a vital part in that. I still thought I would talk to you about what I wish for, even if you can’t make it happen. I know, at least, you would never judge or argue with me. You will just listen and that’s all I could ask for, kind of what I need this year.

I never needed the fancy wrappings. In our house, on Christmas morning, the gifts always sat unwrapped underneath our Christmas tree. This never mattered to me. I love a shiny present with a bow on top just as much as the next person, but it’s a lesson for life. Material things aren’t everything, but as I grew up I learned, from you, that it matters not only what’s inside or outside alone. One does not mean more than the other, if it’s made up of love and care.

Of course, to a certain point with Christmas presents it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Maybe this is not such a selfish thing as we’ve been made to believe because people’s insides are what count too, not only what their outer wrappings might be. As bright, colourful, shiny, and sparkly as the outside wrapper might well appear, it’s the whole package that’s what’s truly important. The outer wrappings often only distract the eye from what else might be going on beneath the surface.

I went from wishing for doll houses and Brita water jugs (just like any eleven-year-old girl would do), to safe and warm homes for every child and fresh water for every person on the planet.

Anything I ever really wanted, or really all I ever needed, I got and I learned to appreciate how lucky that made me. You were the one behind that. You were a better reality than the magic and the story. Being born blind has taught me one thing:

“Seeing isn’t believing. Believing is seeing.”

Okay, I admit I haven’t believed in you lately, in a while. I have seen too much of the reality of adulthood to feel your magic and your impact, but we all need something to believe in, right? I see so little, less and less since I was a little girl, but I know and believe enough in many many things that I cannot and may never see again. Simply because I don’t see something, that does not mean it isn’t there or does not exist.

I know the reach of your talents, the rules of your job, and the pressures that go along with that, not wanting to let anyone down. I know you have a lot of girls and boys wanting something, different things from you. You do your best, just like any of us do ours, not to let those who may be counting on us down. I feel like I am constantly putting demands on other people, and I guess you are no exception.

I want less violence in the world. I want to make a difference with that, to be given the opportunity to achieve that through a future in writing. I want love. I want to see the world. All of this I don’t think you can give me, but if you could at least show me the way to find some of these things myself, that would be suitable.

All I really want from you is to give my niece and nephews as many years of being safe in their childhood lives. I want them to enjoy their childhood years together for as much time as you can provide. As long as you remain real as real can be to them I will once more believe in you with all the faith I had as a child myself.

For as long as you continue to represent the innocence and example of a safe male stranger, in a world where it feels so unsafe for our children to trust these things, I will remember that you were that to me too once.

your bright red and white on the outside contain all the best things about an adult, one children don’t have any reason to fear and every reason in the world to look up to. Your jolly magical spirit shines through and you give off an aura of a safe world, where people are kind, giving, and worth trusting.

You accomplish so much, in such a short amount of time, and we need to look to this example for the rest of us adults. Our children deserve that kind of determination for a better world, for more than we’re currently giving them.

The part of Christmas I need, more than any one present, is the childlike faith in things working out for the best. You can bring that back in me and all the rest isn’t what I need you for. I know this isn’t too much to ask Santa. I will always be grateful to you for that naive child’s view that I feel most strongly this time of year, of which you play such a huge role.

I believe in you through the hope you inspire and in the possibilities you represent to the children in my life. I can get back there, as much as is humanly possible for me at this time, as I get all these thoughts down and sent off to you in this letter.

I know you will read through this letter carefully and will understand what I am trying to say, even if nobody else quite does. A secret between the two of us, an understanding I hope we will always have, and that the consideration you give this will be enough to grant me everything I really want for Christmas.

I was given the challenge of writing a letter, but there’s nobody else I’d even think about writing a letter to at this time of year than you. I thought about writing it in braille, but worried it wouldn’t make it to you in your North Pole in time. I always was impressed you could read it. Email is a modern convenience I do benefit from, but it’s not quite the same thing, so I hope you will forgive me.

Your biggest lifelong fan,

As Long As There’s Christmas


10 thoughts on “As Long As There’s Christmas: My Grownup Letter For Santa, 2015

  1. Beautiful letter to Santa Kerry. This part really spoke to me: “The part of Christmas I need, more than any one present, is the childlike faith.” Childlike faith is the one thing about adulthood that’s seriously lacking.

  2. This is a gorgeous letter to Santa, and I only hope that he reads it and helps you find a way to instigate the differences you want to see. We all have to help each other though, and we’re always stronger together, so I’ll keep my eyes peeled for opportunities, too.

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