Letters to Santa

I woke up wondering what day it was. I thought hard, and had almost come to the conclusion that it was sometime in May when September sounded familiar. I couldn’t be sure. After standing up slowly and letting the blood rush to my feet, I checked the calendar that I marked each day. It was February 12th.

I went downstairs to eat cereal, but could not remember where I kept the bowls. I ate out of the box.

There was a knock at the front door. I opened it to find a lady who looked extremely familiar. She was taller and had long blond hair. Two children stood behind her. I just had to know this lady.

“Hello. May I help you?” I asked politely.

“Mom, it’s me, Margaret. Your daughter,” she replied. I could see the sadness in her eyes and heard the tension in her voice. A bitterness infiltrated the silence that followed. I remembered now.
“Right, of course. I knew that darling. Do come in. You too, children.”

I saw Margaret breathe a sigh of relief, but I could tell something was still troubling her.

“Mom, you move out tomorrow, remember? We’ve come to help you pack,” Margaret told me.

“What? I’m moving? Why?”

“We’ve been over this. You remember. You have Alzheimer’s, and we have to move you to a home where they will take care of you.” She said this all with a slight air of pity.

“Right, I remember. I’m going to go pack.”

I was leaving. I had lived in this house my entire life and I was leaving.

I figured I would start in the attic. I hadn’t been up there in months. It was so dusty I couldn’t help coughing as soon as I entered the room. The floorboards creaked under my feet and the smell of mildew filled the air. After looking through old furnishings and paintings, I came across a box labeled LETTERS TO SANTA. I couldn’t resist.
1928
Dear Santa,

I don’t know how to write yet because I’m only 3, so my mommy’s writing this for me. I was very good this year. I would like a big present. You can eat the cookies and milk. Remember fill my stocking high.






Thanks – Marie
1930
Dear Santa,

Now I lern to right. I right to you. How was yur year? How is Mrs. Clawse? I being good all year. Culd you please bring me a puppy? Mommy wont get me 1. My sistr and bruter wuld like it too. Hav good year.






Thanks – Marie
1933
Dear Santa,

I write letters to you every year, but I have never really told you about myself. I am 8 years old and I live in a suburb outside of New York City. I have a 12 year old sister, Sally, and a 4 year old brother, Bobby. I also have a cat. But how are you Santa? How was your year? Please reply to this letter. It would cheer me up. See, my dad joined the army a couple months ago, and now they tell me that he has to leave for a little bit. They say it has to do with the army. But I’m going to miss him. Oh, maybe as an extra present you can bring me some paper so I can write to him? That’s how mom says we can talk to him while he’s away. Anyway, enjoy your cookies, and Merry Christmas!






Thanks – Marie
1936
Dear Santa,

Since I only write to you once a year, you must have no idea what happens the rest of the time. Well, a lot happened this year. But only one thing that matters. One day
my mom was reading a letter from the mail, and started crying. I tried to ask what was wrong but all she said was,

“Nothing. Go get your sister.”
So I did what I was told, and soon they were both crying. When I asked my sister what happened, she just said,

“Dad’s not okay.”
What that really meant was that Dad’s leg had been blown off by a bomb. He was in the hospital for months and I didn’t know what to think. Dad’s back now, but he looks weird without a leg. Mom says he’s going to get a ‘prosthetic’, but I’m not sure what that is. Anyway, I hope you had a good year. This Christmas, I would like something extra-special. Surprise me.






Thanks – Marie
1942

Dear Santa,

Mom is still making me write to you even though she knows I don’t believe anymore. So I guess I’ll tell you about my year as usual. Not much has happened. I go to college next year! It’s just a community college, but it’s better than nothing.






Thanks – Marie
1950

Dear Santa,

People think it’s strange that I still write to you, but I think it’s tradition. Santa, this year I met the love of my life, Arnold, and we are getting married in three months. I
couldn’t be more excited. I will quit my nursing job just before the wedding. This is going to be the best Christmas yet!






Thanks – Marie
1966

Dear Santa,

It has not been a good year. Well, for a while it was great. Arnold, my two children, Margaret and Bennett, and I have a wonderful life. I love them more than anything. But as you know, my brother, Bobby, followed in our father’s footsteps and joined the army quite some time ago. Well, we recently received word that he was killed. It crushed me. Bobby and I were very close. I still can’t believe that my little brother isn’t around anymore. My parents and Sally aren’t coping very well either. Well, life goes on right? Well, not very easily.






Thanks – Marie
1985

Dear Santa,

You know, this is my favorite time of year. Also, one of my favorite parts of this time of year is writing this yearly letter. It lets me digest all that has happened every year. I turned 55 this year. For a while, getting older scared me. I refused to believe that I was no longer 25. But I have now made peace with it. I love watching Margaret and Bennett grow up, become adults, and create their own lives. My babies are now 27 and 24 years old. I can hardly believe it. Margaret married a lovely young boy this year. I have told you before that both of my parents have passed away a few years ago. I think
my children are my biggest comfort whenever I miss my parents. They help me through everything. Merry Christmas!






Thanks – Marie
2005

Dear Santa,

I am old. It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to get used to it. However, I haven’t had time to get used to Arnold’s diagnosis. He has lung cancer and the doctors gave him six more months to live. Six months. I can’t believe it. My entire life, Arnold has been my rock. He has been with me through everything and helped me through everything. I’ve relied on him for everything. Now he has to rely on me. I don’t know how to stay strong for him. I definitely don’t know how to live without him. This Christmas, Santa, send me a miracle.






Thanks – Marie

2010

Dear Santa,

Well, life goes on. You know, my entire life, you have been my only constant. Life is alright, although rather lonely. My children say my memory’s getting worse, but I don’t believe them. I feel the same way I always have. Life just isn’t as exciting anymore. Merry Christmas, Santa.






Thanks – Marie

When I finished reading, I started to cry. These were distant, if not forgotten, memories. I didn’t remember writing that last letter, even if it was only a couple of
months prior. I sat contemplating and crying for a long while until I could taste the salt from my tears.

Then I realized that I could keep this box for the rest of my life. Even when my memory was completely gone, I would have these letters to read. I made up my mind to read them and refresh my memory every day if I had to. They meant more to me than anything else. They were not only a record of my life, but also an insight to my deepest values.

I realized right then and there, sitting in my tattered stained chair in my dusty old attic, all that really mattered to me was family. All those years, I could have written about my friends or events occurring in the world, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. Those were petty occurrences compared to those of my family. They helped me through my greatest troubles, and rejoiced with me in my greatest joys. I love them more than life itself.

I have five grandchildren. I wanted to know them.

With the fastest pace I could manage, I sped down the steps and gave Margaret a great big hug.