A Letter for Santa

Dear Santa,

I might not have been sugary nice this year, but I've tried. I might have said some things I shouldn't have said, and did not say some things that I should have. I may have been unkind or selfish occasionally, and even lied once in a while. But I neither robbed nor killed, so would you please grant my requests this Christmas?

You gave me a lot this year, and I want to thank you for that. You gave me a wonderful summer and introduced me to a world I'll soon join. I've met some great people, people whom I hope will remain my friends for life. You brought me to many places, and showed me what I could achieve. You sprinkled pleasant surprises along the year, and revealed some long-lost friends as I strolled through time.

But Santa, for all your gifts, I arrive at December's door an unhappy child. You showed me the paths I could take, and I've strived to travel as far as I can. In my journey, I dropped some items in my backpack, yet I feel more burdened by the loss. I dreamt of frolicking with deers, diving into waterfalls and running with leopards, but somehow I ended up taking the shortest shortcut possible.

I wanted to do my best in whatever I did, but now I think my priorities have been terribly wrong. Although I've done well in the things I know I'm good at, I don't feel the sense of accomplishment after reaching my goals. I swore never to let my goals become my life, but I think I've been too single-minded in my pursuit. If we are climbing towards our peak in our 20s, then why is a part of me already dying?

I lost my traveling partner this year, and I can only blame myself for losing him. In the month that followed, I relived countless memories and shed silent tears. Why can't life remain simple as it was years ago? A time when choosing where to go or where to eat were the toughest decisions we made. Our map says we'll meet a fork in our journey soon, and I'm afraid that we'll take separate roads then. I cannot bear to travel further without knowing when our roads will merge again. You've been to every chimney on earth. You know the way to every place. Won't you point out how far after the fork would the two paths meet?

Dear Santa, if you do make dreams come true, won't you show me how to turn back? My backpack is starting to tear, and the items I need to fix it are lying on the road home.

This Christmas eve, I'm going to sleep early. No matter what noises I hear that night, I'll not open my eyes and catch you leaving gifts under the tree. When morning comes, I'll unwrap my gifts. Hopefully, in one of those colorful gift boxes, I'll find a new map. A map to return home.


Love,

Sheau Chin