If only Santa Claus were real—truly real—in our adult universe, weaving magic not just for children but for those of us who have long traded bedtime stories for late-night worries. What if, once a year, a whisper of wonder touched our world? Imagine waking up on Christmas morning to a quiet snowfall that feels like the universe taking a deep breath, and discovering that Santa had visited, not with toys and trinkets, but with the gifts we secretly wish for in the quiet of our hearts.

Picture it: a world where the sparkle of holiday lights is more than a twinkle against the night, but a promise that something extraordinary could happen. Santa’s sleigh would glide silently over rooftops, not with the weight of gifts, but with the burdens of our weary souls. And instead of jingling bells, there’d be the faint sound of hope, fluttering softly through the cold winter air.

What would he leave behind for us? The things we need most but can never seem to find. A velvet pouch of time, enchanted to stretch those rare moments of peace; a crystal vial of laughter that never loses its potency; an invisible cloak of self-belief that wraps around you whenever you falter. If Santa existed in the adult world, he would be the keeper of our unspoken wishes, granting us those precious things that even magic money can’t buy.

He might drop off bottles filled with starshine that sparkles away loneliness, or perhaps tiny jars containing whispers of encouragement to be heard when days feel impossibly heavy. His gifts would be unwrapped with the heart, not the hands—a quiet reprieve from anxiety, a touch of warmth in a world grown cold, or a sudden remembrance of how it felt to truly dream.

And then, there’d be a little handwritten note attached to each gift—“For those who still believe, even when the world has taught you not to.”

In a universe like that, where Santa touched down to make our impossible wishes possible, there would be a renewed glimmer in our eyes, a rekindling of magic that even adulthood couldn’t snuff out. Because some part of us never stopped hoping, never stopped waiting for that impossible magic to find its way back.

If only Santa Claus were real for grown-ups… What would you wish for?

© 2024 A.M. Roberts. All rights reserved.

Dear God,

I pray to you in whispers

And tired, weary sighs

My days are empty echoes

Of restless, night time cries

But I think on how You do collect

Each tear spilt from my eye

You keep them in a vessel

Because for me, You chose to die

—————————————

You keep track of all my sorrows.

You have collected all my tears in your bottle.

You have recorded each one in your book.

Psalm 56:8

My Darlings,

In this time of turmoil and uncertainty,

try to remember that life is short

and should be lived purposely.

Moving forward day by day

letting not your mind to the past stray.

Making each moment your next

adventure,

remembering to keep your center.

Live each day sharing love and compassion,

they will give your life a happier

function.

I've sat idle in this h*ll for far too long. The chaos, the pain, the hate. It's all too much. I've told you my feelings you dismissed them.

I told you my troubles you screamed and yelled and threatened.

You hurt me.

Yet I forgive you. not for you but for me.

I forgive the pain, I forgive the bruises, I forgive the abuse.

but I won't stay. I'm not going to put up with this. I don't have to put up with your problems that you are too immature to fix yourself. I love you as a daughter does her mother. yet you don't love me as a mother does her child.

I wanted your love so badly I almost killed myself to get it. But i'm done.

Leaving is hard. It's scary it's a new world of true unconditional love from a family I wasn't born to. It's not worrying for my mental and physical safety everyday. It not feeling anxiety when things aren't hard and full of fury.

Moving away is hard the internal battle i'm facing is even harder. However I have to do what is right for me. I need to protect myself finally. I need to love myself first. I will miss you and I will miss them, the smiles, the laughs, the good times that seem to be far and few between but I wont miss it enough to stay.

goodbye.

If I followed my own advice

I'd be a success overnight.

Quit my job, and just write

About the time I decided to take flight.

In my advice,

I detail what it's like to give

Every burden and fight to Jesus Christ.

And I'd be better wirh my cash.

Instead of having the mindset of

I can't take it with me to the end

So I may as well spend.

Or use the excuse that I get tired of

Being paid just to turn around and have to

Get these bills paid....Broke again....

Making transactions, shaking Satan's hand

Until God decides it's the right timing

For a blessing. Damn.

Now I'm paying back insterest on a loan

That I can't afford....

Praying please get me out of another

Impossible situation, Dear Lord.

But that doesn't take away from who I am.

I want you to have more self-worth

Because I was told that other guy was the better

Man and still in love I stand.

And I would know that God has devised a plan.

If I took my own advice,

I'd know how special I am, right?

Believe in myself with some consistency.

Instead, one day I'm like fuck it,

And I put down my pen.

The next day, I'm back at it again.

It's easier to give advice because

I don't want the next person to be

As stupid as I.

With eyes looking from the outside

Everything that you have ever known

Becomes a lie.

So I can't take my own advice.

I can only pray that I become a little more wise.

#Three #WeAreUrijah

Silence.

The noise is too much

as it pounds in my head.

Silence.

There it is again,

the noise above all noises.

Silence.

It won’t go away.

Please, please

Just go away!

Silence.

The noise is gone,

but what has happened?

Who is there?

My Savior.

My loving, caring Savior.

I feel His warm embrace,

as he yearns for me to succeed.

I see His light, shining through.

He is there for me.

He is there to tell me I am enough.

He is there to remind me of my worth.

He is there to support me.

And love me. And help me.

He is there to guide me.

Guide me through life.

Through my struggles,

and my triumphs.

When I need Him, He is there.

Replace my rifle with an arrow

From Cupid's quiver.

The dream is all lucid.

Here you are, a shining star.

On par with the myths, angels,

And a unicorn in human form.

Beautiful art on the perfect canvas,

Handcrafted by God's touch,

Using His paintbrush that is forged

Out of the feathers that are tethered together

To make up Gabriel's wings.

A calming voice, four trumpets melodic

While the angels sing.

I have captured lightning in a bottle.

You are every prayer answered,

You are too good for any mortal.

I hear destiny calling so I answer

On the first ring on one knee.

Will you marry me?

I hope you liked the wordplay. Get it?

My destiny is that proposal.

Yea, you get it.

Now take this ring as a token

Of my love and appreciation.

Of all the times you have stuck by me

When I wasn't deserving of it.

I will keep pushing for success.

God first and I cannot fail.

In love with your allure.

You can be sure.

I have two keys of an equation.

That's me plus you in case we need to reassure.

Sitting in my final math class at the high school I attended, I couldn't stop thinking about how lonely and isolated I felt, a teenager with no friends who felt like she had nowhere to belong. Just then, I felt my phone vibrate inside the pocket of my hoodie, so I took it out to see what all the commotion was about.

Let me explain, I've never been the popular girl, people don't really care much about my few social media posts, and the friends I do have, are all in another state. I am not, in any means, well-known where I now live.

So, when my phone was blowing up with Instagram notifications, I didn't think it had anything to do with me. I turned my phone off and stuck it in my back, trying to turn my attention back to factoring logarithmic equations.

For about twenty minutes, I focus on what my teacher is saying and don't think anything of the Instagram notifications I'd been receiving. As the lesson ended, I pulled my phone back out to put on some music while I attacked my homework; when I noticed the number of notifications had just doubled in such a short amount of time.

Sighing, I opened my phone and pulled up Instagram to see what was going on. Clicking on the little bell to get to the bottom of this strange occurrence, I noticed that I had hundreds of likes on a post from 4 years prior about some random story I wrote that wasn't even cropped appropriately for the post.

Confused, I noticed that someone had messaged me, so I went to my messages next to see that I'd in fact received tons of messages. Clicking on the top conversation, I quickly skimmed the long text and my jaw dropped when I saw that a famous author wanted to talk to me about a book they're working on for her next series. Even more shocking was they wanted MY help!

Quickly typing back, I said I'd love to know more about the project before I commit to anything, and she'd responded immediately with all the information. As I read the description of the mystery novel, my interest peaked and before I knew it, I was helping write the book that would go on to be the single most popular book in America, beating out every single other book in the world for the coveted title.

And to think that it all started in a math class.

Just hold that happy thought, Peter, don't let it slip away

Maybe you'll be surprised someday

What are the chances that I'd find you here and now?

What made you say goodbye?

I want to run away

Maybe I will someday

Will you come too?

Or shall you be happy for a while?

Your ways confuse me Peter, and yet I ask you now

To come with me

Unless you can't

Or maybe you don't want to

That's all good an fine

But why did you come then?

Was it only to gloat and nag?

To throw temptation in my face, and tear it all away?

I hate you

You enrage me for sport and bask in my fury

Well just hold that happy thought, Peter

The game is over now

You've deceived me for the last time

So don't come back again

I hope you rot and shrivel

"Peter!"

"Yes, mother."

Where is Peter?

I've lost him again

Am I Peter?

Impossible

Peter was in the mirror