Re: Merry Christmas Or Yo Santa!

Dear Santa Claus, your Majesty (LOL),

So, it’s been a long time since I last wrote to you, although it does seem like just yesterday!  For seventeen years – and it again does seem – I have been laboriously ignoring the falsities in life and having faith in what I believe:  That you are not real and that I know that isn’t true, respectively.  You’ve been good to me.  You have brought me things to make beautiful sounds, you have kept my feet warm when they were cold, you have given me the tools to keep track of days and cycles of the moon and you have made my armpits smell fresh when they were far less than such (the stockings are my favorite, beeteedub).  But this year–this year you didn’t come.  So I was initially going to write to you asking, “What’s up with that?”  I know for a fact that you were out because for one, I saw Rudolph’s nose in the sky and two, there was a kid on a bike with a red bow on the street out front the next day.  I am sorry to be so frank and for putting you on the spot as I am, but someone I have put trust in for 26 years let me down and I don’t think I am wrong in saying that that’s, like, a pri-tee big deal.

So a few minutes ago I was driving back from visiting my mom and sister when I realized what I believe to be a groundbreaking answer to this question: Why didn’t you stop by?  My conclusion could be interpreted as nothing more than coincidence made into a big deal – depending on who’s cosmic team you play for – but regardless, it goes like this:  On November 8th (or was it the 9th?) my dad died of a sudden heart attack; one which no one was expecting and then come December yooouuuu completely flake out.  No wonder why no one else thought you were real!  People stop writing to you the minute they are convinced you don’t exist and you stop visiting them the minute after that therefore seemingly proving their new discovery.  Of course, this is what you must have assumed to be the case with my dad.  I’m guessing he continually wrote to you all of those years!  You and my dad knew each other!  You were in cahoots – man, you had me so fooled!  A secret friendship.  And since he hadn’t returned any of your e-mails and neglected to pick up the phone you were hurt.  And I am sooooo sorry that you felt that way!  And now in writing this, I realize how inconsiderate it was of me to break the news to you as I did a few sentences ago – so suddenly and carelessly – but for the art of note writing, I must keep it that way.  From the deepest and most pure part of my soul, I am so sorry for your loss.

Now,  this is a long shot.  I’m stepping into the spotlight of humility here in writing you such a selfish request when you must be dealing with the news I have just given you with disbelief,  perhaps confusion or utter horror.  But I still need a Christmas present.  I have kept the tree up and the jingle bells are on the front door so everything will seem as it would have on the eve of ol’ 25.  Cookies and all.  Man, wouldn’t it be funny if this whole time we had it mixed up and you actually were the one who liked carrots!?  Anyway.  My List (Attached I will leave a detailed, justifiably desperate description as to why I need each of these items):

MRI

Water Pick

Cat Scan

Steel String Guitar that Rings Real Deep

Socks (always!)

To Run Free In The Prairies

There are a fewwww other items I could add, but I don’t really want to push it and run the risk of not receiving the above.  So that will be that.  Ok.  Well now that business is taken care of, I must thank you.  And not in one of those apologizing-and-making-certain-promises-to-God-as-a-kid-every-time-after-masturbating ways.  This is not guilt or fear driven.  This is sincerity.  Thank you for every single year of my life.  With your gifts, you have made each one outstandingly more beautiful.

Sincerely,

Jenni Rose