Less Than Three

Dear Santa

Author Note: This isn't a chapter of LESS THAN THREE. It's just a little stocking stuffer I left for you. Happy Holidays, everyone! The story will be back with a new chapter next Wednesday! Maybe sooner. 

Dear Santa,

You know how my mom is. (Sigh.)

Because of that, I am sure you are not surprised to find another note from me, even though I am now FIFTEEN YEARS OLD and NONE of my other friends are required to write letters to you in order to receive their gifts on Christmas morning. If you're reading this, Mom, (and I'm pretty sure you are) insert eyeroll here.

I mean, I get it. I understand what she's been trying to tell me all of these years, that Christmas isn't just about getting gifts. It's about other stuff too. Like believing in things with your heart instead of your head.

I remember when I turned nine and I asked my dad if you were real. He told me to go ask my mother. Here's what she said: "Summer, honey, do you really think your dad and I would buy all of those gifts for you?"

That made sense to my nine year old self, but when I turned ten, I wasn't so sure. I asked Dad again, and he sent me to Mom (again). This time she said: "You can stop believing in Santa if that's what you want, but what if believing is what makes him real?"

By the time I turned twelve I was acutely aware that believing in you was no longer a popular option among my peers. I'd learned to keep my mouth shut about the subject around them. But I wrote the stupid letter to you anyway. You know, just in case. 

Last year too. 

And the year before that.

I'm finally old enough now to see things differently. I am ready to have faith in things that can't be explained. Things like you, Santa. Things like magic. Things like ... love.

But not flying reindeer. A girl's got to draw the line somewhere.

And so, dear Santa, here is my annual Obligatory Christmas Wish List for Others (that's a little less obligatory this year):

For my mom: An elf to complete the ridiculous amount of chores she's already got lined up for me over Christmas break. (And a hug for understanding me when I don't even understand myself.)

For my dad: It's time he got his own tablet, isn't it? He could look up new cliches so much more comfortably from the couch.

For Tim: A gas card in case he wants to give *someone* a ride to the mall.

For Craig: A girlfriend who won't be too much work. Either that, or a snack cake that tastes like bratwurst.

For Madison: The ability to see herself the way I see her: giddy, moody, but not too hairy at all.

For Brady: Whatever it is he wants. (Good luck figuring that one out.)

For Dave Brown: Something ... more ;)

Contrary to popular opinion, I do sometimes admit that I am not the center of the universe. So ... 

For the World: Peace. Goodwill toward men. And women. (And hey, even Lily Peterson.)

Santa, if you could help us all get along a little better despite the differences in our languages, the colors of our skin or the tenor of our faiths, that would be great. I know it's a big request, and I'm not sure how you'll ever get it on your sleigh, but I'm asking anyway.

Because what if believing it can happen is what makes it real?

<3

Summer

P.S. I hear PaperKut is touring this winter. Tickets?