Dear Santa,
At fifty-three, one would think I was far too old to write you. But even fifty-three-year-olds can have wishes for Christmas.
When you fly into Chicago, this year, could you bring back my husband? I miss him most during this time. He used to help me string popcorn and twirl me under the mistletoe. When he kissed me I believed anything was possible.
He made me feel most alive, even as he was dying.
Please, Santa, if you have any power over death, bring him back to me so we can live another fifty years together.
Sincerely,
Anna.
At fifty-three, one would think I was far too old to write you. But even fifty-three-year-olds can have wishes for Christmas.
When you fly into Chicago, this year, could you bring back my husband? I miss him most during this time. He used to help me string popcorn and twirl me under the mistletoe. When he kissed me I believed anything was possible.
He made me feel most alive, even as he was dying.
Please, Santa, if you have any power over death, bring him back to me so we can live another fifty years together.
Sincerely,
Anna.
No comments:
Post a Comment