Dear Santa, For the Grown-Ups

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.