Dear Santa,
I have heard that if I write a letter to you, you will read it. Everyone in pre-K knew this when I was teaching. So I figured that I would give it a shot. I have some wishes this year, for Christmas. Maybe you can help me out.
I wish that I was as old as I am now. Only, younger. A lot younger.
I like who I am now, at this age, more than any other version of me that I have met. But, if I were younger, I would, barring being hit by a bus or some other unfortunate circumstance, live longer to care for my son who has special needs.
So, please, make me a lot younger so that I can live longer. And also, keep me this age so that my accumulated wisdom and life experience can help my son.
I wish that I had a money tree. So that, periodically, I could harvest what grows and preserve it and save it, for my son. So that any time he needs anything, there would be no question that I could give it to him. Whether it be a new kind of therapy, a new technological support or just a new blankie. Funnily enough, before my Mom died, she used to tell me that when she worked in a flower shop, she used to make money trees. People would order them as gifts for people in the 1950’s. But, just so you aren’t confused, Santa, this isn’t the one that I need. I need a money tree that regrows the money as leaves regrow and replenish. Because there is always something new that my son needs.
Santa, I wish that I had endless energy and strength. So that when my son wants to run and play, I can keep up, even though we got up for the day at 2 AM. So that when he decides to throw a plate of food on the floor (not because he is misbehaving, but because he is done with it so he thinks that it no longer needs to be on the table), I can vacuum for the millionth time with gusto. So that if he has another seizure, I can continue to carry him from the car to the emergency room. So that I can continue to hold him and stand there and argue with the desk folks to let me through BEFORE filling out paperwork. So he can get care first. So that I can continue to carry him back when the desk clerk sees that I will not relent in the argument.
Please, Santa, this year if you could, give me better time management for my other children. So that they, too, feel special and have my attention. Oh, and my husband. He’s important, too.
But, Santa, here’s the thing. If you can’t bring me any of the things that I wish for, I’ll be OK. I have been living the special needs life for a long time now. I can do it without the wishes being granted.
My number one wish, Santa, is for my son to have continued joy in the care and love of his family. To be seen as someone who contributes to society – his job is to be a joy spreader, just like you! To be accepted exactly as he is. To not be pitied because there is no reason for it.
OK, and maybe, just for my son, a new tablet.
In my mind, if you deliver this non-tangible gift, there is a big, imaginary, magical, red bow wrapped around it.
It would be the greatest gift I have ever received.
Scratch that. The greatest gift I have ever received is my son.
But, man, Santa, it would rock.
Love,
Me
Oh, P.S. – If you could also make coffee keep up with what I need it to do, that would be awesome. Thanks, Santa!
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