Dear Santa

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Dear Santa:

What do I ask this year? I have perused each ad in my mailbox, pored over the colorful ads in the newspaper. So many lovely things, and yet I need nothing.

I realize this as I walk up the hill on my strong legs. I can hear the air fill my lungs. I feel the cold on my cheeks. I smell the smoke of the fire that warms my home. I see the snow-capped mountains and the slate gray river peppered with fat geese.

I need nothing: there are people who love me. There are people who forgive my sometimes wretched temper and who touch me with loving hands. There are neighbors who smile in the store. There are shopkeepers who are tolerant when I don’t have enough money. There are kind faces in public places.

There is a fat pregnant cat who sneaks into my garage. Dogs and other cats share my hearth; I love to feel their fur with my feet. There are hawks that teach their young of flight, right there behind my house. There are deer that tiptoe into my yard and savor the fat apples in the snow.

Rows of glassed vegetables; green beans, tomatoes, peas and carrots color my pantry. And a rusty bucket of hand tools and neatly dried seeds promises next year’s riches.

I need nothing! Christmas promises already fulfilled redeem my foolish life, and occasionally I glimpse the feast that awaits me when this earthly one is done.

Today I discovered a hole in my jeans. I felt the December air slither down my leg. How mighty is the hand that sweeps the wind along the mountains. Santa, dear old soul, just give me another day like this one in my life.