This is my first Christmas without parents. Dad died in his sleep a decade ago. His birthday was Christmas Eve. And Mum died this May. I've been thinking a lot about them and about how short life is. When I was worried about something, Dad always told me, "It won't matter a hundred years from now."
Now I understand.
One good thing I've discovered is that I can reclaim happy times and banish unpleasant memories if I try hard enough. My note to Santa was in the bottom of a box of old report cards and notes my parents saved for years and years. I'm grateful to them for doing that. I just wish I could tell them.
Note the 1953 Boys Town stamp on the front. Now, if that doesn't age me nothing will.
I'm sure I thought Santa would like it. He must have, because he left everything I asked him for.
On the back of the envelope, Dad added in pencil something I must have forgotten to draw in my letter. He wrote, "And a big doll too."
Here's my letter.
Top left is a carrying case for doll clothes (the doll goes in the middle). She has an interesting wardrobe. Below the case is a Jack-in-the-box. Next comes a Peter Pan puppet (He lasted about a week. It was too hard to make him dance). Next is the bride doll, and on the far right is an electric train set. Dad and Uncle John liked playing with that on Christmas Day.
I wished I could have candy in my stocking like the other kids at school instead of oranges and apples, but you can't have everything.