by: Rebecca Taylor

A long time ago on the 24th of December, snow was dancing outside a large brick house. As snow collected on the windowsill, a young boy lay on a green blanket reading about Father Christmas by the glow of firelight as shadows played on the wall. He shut the book with a satisfying snap and closed his eyes to think about the ending. The boy’s name was Santa Claus. As the fire crackled and the aroma of baking filled the house, Santa drifted off and he began to dream. This is where I come in. As Santa was reflecting on the real meaning of Christmas and the joy of giving, he drifted off and had a dream. The dream is about me, Santa was writing me with a pen shaped like a candy cane. I am a letter. I could feel the warmth of Santa’s words as he wrote them on a notepad that said, “From our home to yours.” The more of Santa’s words that fell on the paper, the more he wrote, it seemed that there was an increased urgency in sending me. Once I heard him say, “Must get this done by morning,” and the pen increased speed again. Around the room, I can hear the grandfather clock whispering with the calendar and the fireplace. Santa didn’t notice, as he was too intent on what he was writing.
“Santa’s hands hold secrets,” said Calendar.
“How do you know this?” asked Grandfather Clock
“Just look at what he has written,” answered Fireplace.
“Dear Father Christmas, I just finished reading the book about your life. You do very good work delivering gifts to the less fortunate at Christmas time. I sent off my list to St. Nicholas asking for all sorts of things but after reading about your life, I want to be more like you. Giving is better than getting. I have lots of toys already and there are some children that have none. That makes me sad. I think I will find some of my toys to give away. I like it when people smile. When I grow up, I want to help people just like you do. Do you need a helper? I think that the world would be a happier place if there were more people like you around teaching us how to do good things all year round,” read Calendar looking at what Santa had written on me.
Just then, Santa’s mother opened the window to let in Gingerbread, the Claus’ brown and yellow cat and a gust of wind came and grabbed me from Santa’s hands. I whirled out the window. Santa jumped up but it was too late; I had flown away past the people standing on the street and was no longer in sight. Santa’s words on my skin made me feel like I had a purpose. He had written it to Father Christmas and I hoped that while I was becoming moist from the snow and trodden on by the occasional foot that stepped on me as the wind changed speeds, that I would be able to make a difference. I felt like Santa and I had a connection, and somehow I knew that Santa was hoping that his message would be delivered to other people. The word had to get out about helping people not only at Christmas but also at other times during the year. Thinking of others would help us become better.
Why did Santa need to do this now? I wondered, once as I was floating above treetops, because it was Christmas Eve, I supposed, and because at the moment when he had finished reading, he knew what he wanted to say, he needed to get his message out right away, to be able to start changing the world. He had hoped that Father Christmas would help him do that, but plans had changed when the window had taken me out into the world and I planned to see this through. I could still feel Santa’s touch as I traveled from place to place knowing that he would have a feeling of sadness for having lost me, but also a feeling of hope that maybe his message could still be heard. Occasionally a hand would grasp me, read me and then let me float off again. Littering, some might say to let papers go astray in the wind but I had a mission and could only accomplish it if I was allowed to roam free from person to person. Some people smile as they see what I say, touched by the weight of the words, I can feel their emotion, and know that they will help carry on the message.
When this dream ended and Santa woke up again, what he had written on me was still engraved on his heart and I knew that his hopes would be carried out because I had seen my fate after floating out of the window. Santa hadn’t seen this part. I have been in many people’s dreams since my first appearance in the young Santa’s life and we know what his life is like now. He makes so many people happy, he carries magic and promotes good living, by telling children and adults too that you don’t just need to be good on one day of the year. A year or a lifetime’s worth of actions add up. I was written in Santa’s heart, a wonderful place to be filled with warmth and love. If each day we all tried to make one life even a little better, we would be promoting Santa’s dream and maybe someday we will all reign in harmony. I will keep trying by getting into people’s heads when they are sleeping, maybe I will come visit you one day.

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