Letters
To Santa
A Flash
Fiction Story
Katherine
Rochholz
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.
‘Dear Santa,
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.
Sincerely,
A fifty-three year old
mother from Chicago’
‘Dear Santa,
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…
Sincerely,
A teen who just got his
first taste of having a family.’
‘Dear Santa,
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.
Sincerely,
A teen who doesn’t
believe, but for her will turn the world inside out’
‘Dear Santa,
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.
Sincerely,
A teen who always wanted a chance to
believe’
Dear Santa,
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.
Sincerely,
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…
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