Who Am I? Why Do You Care?

I am a woman on a journey. Where I'll end up is yet to be discovered.



Thanksgiving is coming and it’s a time to remember our blessings and what we are thankful for.  This year, I do remember all my gifts, but I am most thankful for one simple thing.  I am thankful that Santa does not bring men.  Yep, that’s right.  It’s something to be grateful for.

Picture this if you will.  It’s Christmas morning and the sky is just beginning to lighten.  It’s not quite daybreak, it’s that time when the sky is just a little bit grey and you know dawn will soon arrive.  You have crawled into bed, exhausted.  Just when you were beginning to drift off in blissful slumber, minus the sugar plums, your kid bounces on the bed, shrieking, “It’s time to get up!!”  “It’s time to get up!!!”  “Are you planning on sleeping all daaaayyyy???”  You consider giving the child of your womb a black eye for Christmas, but figure that wouldn’t be very maternal.

You do the only thing you can.  You slide out of bed, trying to open one sandpaper-y eyeball.  Somehow you shuffle your way into the living room where the tree lights are twinkling brightly.  Oh!  The light!!  The light!!  You flop onto the couch wishing you had your sunglasses.  Suddenly (and yes, I know you shouldn’t use “suddenly” in your writing, but it WAS quite suddenly) there is a rustling under the tree.  Something is peeking at you between the fir branches.  Surely Santa didn’t leave a puppy, did he?  What IS that behind the tree?  Now it’s grinning with pearly white teeth.  Grabbing your daughter, your eyes are now wide open as you backpedal across the floor.  Is it a peeping tom?  A burglar looking for Christmas loot?

“Don’t move,” You tell the man that’s sitting under your tree.  He stares blankly at you, a red ribbon around his neck.  Picking up what looks like a baseball bat from under the tree, you wield it at the intruder.  He tries to crawl out from under the tree, but you shake the hopefully-a-bat package at him.

“No!  I’m a present,” he says.  “Santa left me.”

That’s when you whack him over the head and call the cops.

He is still insisting that Santa left him there as the police escort him outside.  Merry Christmas.

How embarrassing when you find out that Santa really DID leave a man for you.  If you had known what would be waiting under your tree, things would have been different.  I mean, what kind of first impression did you make with your hair in  a tangled mess, no makeup, with swollen, red eyes?  He’d be running back to the North Pole.  So you see how awful that turned out for everyone involved?  Now you understand why I’m thankful Santa doesn’t leave men. (but wait — he has to come back, right?  Aren’t Santa’s gifts non-returnable?)

In case you are wondering about this disastrous vision, it all started with a letter.  A letter to Santa.  As my daughter lay sleeping, I pilfered the letter she had written.  No, it isn’t even quite Thanksgiving, but she had something on her mind.  She is past the age where kids stop believing in Santa, but she is still desperately trying to hold on to the magic.  I applaud her determination.

Dear Santa,

How are you?  I hope you are good.  I am eleven years old and I am the only one in my class that still believes in you.  I try to tell them that you are real.  I don’t really need a lot for Christmas, I’m happy with anything you would like to give me.  I would like some rawhide for my dog, Lilly, if that’s okay.  The only other thing I want is the same thing I want every year.  I’d like a Dad.  You know I have a father, and you know all about that situation too.  Every year I wish my Mom would get a husband.  I wish that all the time, but I know you probably can’t do it.  Mom says she doesn’t think Santa delivers husbands.  Things with my Mom are great, but I would really like a Dad that cared about us.  I’m excited for Christmas and to spend time with my family.  Thank you Santa, for everything.

This isn’t the first time my daughter’s letter to Santa has included mention of wanting a husband for me.  At first, it was kind of sad.  I know my daughter has her own white picket fence dream with two parents a dog, and I’ve told her so many times that families come in all shapes and sizes.  She knows this is true, and yet I can’t keep her from wishing for some wonderful man to come along and fill the place in her heart.  She has positive male role models in her life, and we do just fine.  I just try to tell her that if it was meant to be, it would.

In the meantime, I’m glad Santa doesn’t grant all Christmas wishes.  I’d hate to have the cops haul off my gift.  But just in case, I’ll brush my hair and put on some makeup come Christmas morning. 🙂


Author: kristilazzari

I am a happily divorced mom and writer from rural Alabama. My daughter and I live off the beaten path with a spoiled rotten Flat Haired Retriever that believes herself to be a lap dog. Books are my passion, my day job keeps the lights on.

4 thoughts on “Thankful?

  1. The letter was really cute and just a little bit sad!

    • I do always think it’s just a bit sad…but better the letters to Santa than when she sees the commercials for online dating sites and wants me to sign up! LOL! She’s persistent, if nothing else! I don’t know how a letter to Santa can make me giggle and be a touch sad at the same time, but it did…

  2. Well I for one think you are just an amazing writer…this is so amusing…and sad…and funny…and true ! Love it love it love it

What's on your mind? I welcome your thoughts!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s