Everybody is asking me what I want for Christmas. But what I really want this year cannot be found at Forever 21 or the Apple store. It cannot be paid for with credit cards, cash or a check. You cannot wrap it in shiny paper and line it up along side all the other pretty packages that will be under the tree.
It isn’t possible.
Santa Claus, what I really want this year is for there to be peace in the house.
For the violence to stop in the world. For justice to be served when justice deserves to be served.
For my sister to be happy. For my other sister to be whole and well again.
I want somebody to see me and only me and to gift me his favorite songs and to want to spend the rest of his life with me with a couple of dogs and maybe a kid. I want somebody to look at me the way my sisters boyfriends look at them. I want coffee kisses in the morning and slow dances around the kitchen at night. I want an imperfect prince charming. I want to give my healing heart to somebody who will keep it safe for me this time around. I want arguments and make ups and movie marathons. I want somebody who will get me and see all of me and love even my ugly parts. I want long conversations that do not take place in my dreams anymore. I do not want to be alone among a group of people anymore.
I’m waiting patiently Santa.