Letters To Santa
A Flash Fiction Story
All Rights Reserved Copyright 2019
Once I had turned ten I never thought I would write another letter to Santa, he hadn’t brought me what I asked for, a liver for my dad… My faith died that day.
When I was nineteen and told I would never have kids, I never thought I would have to think about writing a letter to Santa. After all, my life took a different path after that day.
When I was forty all I could think about was kids writing letters to Santa, and how my co-workers would be talking about their children. Always left out, always outside of the circle; but there was nothing I could do about it, for I couldn’t have children.
When I was fifty, I choose to foster a child, but they were older teens, so the letters to Santa never happened. But I was happy. I missed the small children mile stones, but I was there for them when they needed me most in their lives. I was finally getting a chance to be a mom.
When I was fifty-three, I received word that a four year old needed a home. I already had started the process to adopt the three teen boys I had been fostering for the last three years, I wasn’t going to take on any more children, but her story pulled my heart. So I agreed to meet her.
When I was fifty-three I adopted three teen boys and a small little girl. I was a mother.
When I was fifty-three years old I sat around a hospital bed with my three boys, as their sister laid waiting for a transplant.
When I was fifty-three years old, I wrote Letters to Santa with my boys and daughter.
I became a mom for the first time 3 years ago. Dear Santa, please work a Christmas miracle, send a bone marrow to my baby girl.
A fifty-three year old mother from Chicago’
I stopped believing years ago, but please, don’t let me lose my little sister, I just got her… I want to keep her. Bring her the marrow she needs to live…
A teen who just got his first taste of having a family.’
I don’t believe in you. I used to write for a family. When I stopped I gained my new mom. And I have 2 brothers. And a sister… I don’t believe for me, but for her I want to believe you would come for her. Please, it is all I will ever ask for again. Bring her what she needs to live.
A teen who doesn’t believe, but for her will turn the world inside out’
I never had a chance to believe in you. Not until mom would write from Santa on my first Christmas gifts from her 3 years ago. I was 11. I never wrote a letter to you. I know we are supposed to ask for the newest electronic, or a game, but please, just bring a bone marrow to my sister. I just got her. And I can’t lose her.
A teen who always wanted a chance to believe’
I got the most amazing gift already this year! I got a mom! And 3 brothers! 3! And they are all mine! And a mom who holds me when I am scared! I am not going to ask for anything. I have it all. Thank you Santa, you got me the family I asked for last year.
A happy little girl’
When I was fifty-three I read four letters to Santa.
When I was fifty-three years old I found the faith I lost when I was ten.
When I was fifty-three years old I wrote a letter to Santa.
When I was fifty-three years old, I fell to my knees and begged a God I wasn’t sure existed.
When I was fifty-three years old, I begged whoever would listen for them not to take my child.
When I was fifty-three years old, I witnessed a Christmas Miracle.
When I was fifty-three, my four year old received a bone marrow transplant from a man with a long white beard, who was jolly, and was named Nicholas.
When I was fifty-three years old, my faith in miracles, God, and Santa were renewed.
When I was fifty-three years old, I sat in a Chicago hospital and wrote a letter to Santa.
When I was fifty-three years old, a stranger gave my daughter the gift of life.
When I was fifty-three years old, I wrote Letters to Santa…