What a Girl Wants, What a Girl Needs
Dear Santa,
The countdown is on. Only a week left until you kiss the wife and board the sleigh. Do you feel harried, like we do?
My guess is no.
Next Wednesday is your Super Bowl. It’s what you wake up thinking about every day. While we send valentines, hunt eggs, shoot fireworks and dress up as Freddy Krueger, you’ve got your head down, eyes-on-the-prize focused at the Pole. Clarity of purpose has a way of dismissing strain. I bet you’re fired up even if you’re tired.
A whole year to get ready for one day. One day! One day that will reveal all you did or didn’t do the other 364. Then it’s back to your glorious one-foot-in-front-of-the-other grind. Your ability to be only where you are while not worrying about the outcome is uncanny. That other Nick who used to coach the Crimson Tide talks a lot about commitment to the process, but you’re the original architect of that game plan. You’ve long been leaving us footprints to follow in the snow.
I’m wondering, this year, if you’ve faced any new challenges. I mean, beyond the typical joint stiffness that comes with age and the rising cost of reindeer hay. Like, how’s it going with the elves? Do you have as many as you used to? Have they been ok with coming in to the shop? I assume you’ve found a way to keep them working together--hard and mostly happy--or we’d have heard. They are likely not that different from the legions of loyal builders you’ve had before, they just get distracted a little more easily. I bet you keep their “why” in front of their “what” with fir trees and tinsel and sparkly lights all around the workspace. You probably pipe in children’s squeals through the speakers, too. You’re the best that’s ever been at helping people remember what they really want.
Speaking of which, I almost forgot why I sat down to write you in the first place. I’ve got a favor to ask. I’d like for you to rip up that list I sent a while ago. While I really would like for my vocal cord nodules to disappear so I can get back to singing with Karen Carpenter, and I do pine for disease-proof trees, as well as a first serve I can count on, I’d rather you spend your magic-making this year on needs instead of wants. And I really don’t have any of those. The world, however, has more than you can shake a stick at. What I really want for Christmas is for you to put all your energy there.
Ok, I’ve already taken up too much of your time zig-zagging across the field on my way to the point, so I’ll let you get back at it. Please know that I stand in awe of what you do and how you do it. I’m not sure sometimes what we might do without you to look forward to.
Children everywhere will, obviously, be counting on your arrival. But don’t forget that a lot of us big people will be as well. Thank you for the magic of Christmas, the joys that are unique to December 25th. It keeps us young and hopeful even if and when we may not be either of the two. Thank you, also, for showing up in places and at times when we least expect it year around. You’re almost too good to be true.
Fly with care. We’ll see you soon!
Love,
Me
P.S. Angels Among Us