My Letter to St. Nicholas - 2018
My Dearest St. Nicholas,
I am here again, my living room glows in the soft light of my Christmas tree; the warmth wrapped around me like a favorite blanket and I am blessed to have the comforts of my home and my family. I can smell the pine and, memories of my childhood sneak up and surprise me. My mind drifts back to where I grew up; my home town by the shore, and I hear the coins jingle. My father has one hand in his pocket where he keeps his spare coins and the other holds my own tiny, mittened hand as we walk the path in search of the tree which will sparkle just for Santa. I try to copy him and walk with strides longer than my legs; my feet, that could never fill his shoes, point out just a bit. It's cold and our exhaled breaths of frozen vapor linger for a moment like an angel briefly visiting before taking flight to its heavenly home. It's dark but, the dim bulbs strung low over the path keeps the shadows at bay and my hand held tightly in my father's own reassures me that I am safe.
I miss my father and long for the comfort of his hand or to hear the jingle of coins in his pocket. I know, Santa, you cannot give back that time. So, I will ask that you keep my memories safe. Please tuck them away in my heart so I can visit them when it's cold and dark.
I often wonder if my father knew that those were the memories I would treasure the most. That it wasn't about the presents under the tree but more about the smell of pine, the sound of coins, and the time spent together catching glimpses of angels flying home. Those times were a true gift and that's what makes my heart happy. I, also, wonder if I have done a good job at gifting my children with memories...what have they tucked away in their hearts? I pray it is many blessings, full of warmth, like a favorite blanket to wrap up in.
Merry Christmas, Santa, and in case you ever wondered...yes, I do believe.
I am here again, my living room glows in the soft light of my Christmas tree; the warmth wrapped around me like a favorite blanket and I am blessed to have the comforts of my home and my family. I can smell the pine and, memories of my childhood sneak up and surprise me. My mind drifts back to where I grew up; my home town by the shore, and I hear the coins jingle. My father has one hand in his pocket where he keeps his spare coins and the other holds my own tiny, mittened hand as we walk the path in search of the tree which will sparkle just for Santa. I try to copy him and walk with strides longer than my legs; my feet, that could never fill his shoes, point out just a bit. It's cold and our exhaled breaths of frozen vapor linger for a moment like an angel briefly visiting before taking flight to its heavenly home. It's dark but, the dim bulbs strung low over the path keeps the shadows at bay and my hand held tightly in my father's own reassures me that I am safe.
I miss my father and long for the comfort of his hand or to hear the jingle of coins in his pocket. I know, Santa, you cannot give back that time. So, I will ask that you keep my memories safe. Please tuck them away in my heart so I can visit them when it's cold and dark.
I often wonder if my father knew that those were the memories I would treasure the most. That it wasn't about the presents under the tree but more about the smell of pine, the sound of coins, and the time spent together catching glimpses of angels flying home. Those times were a true gift and that's what makes my heart happy. I, also, wonder if I have done a good job at gifting my children with memories...what have they tucked away in their hearts? I pray it is many blessings, full of warmth, like a favorite blanket to wrap up in.
Merry Christmas, Santa, and in case you ever wondered...yes, I do believe.
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