It’s this time of year again where I ask about you and send you a list of the gifts I expect to find under my Christmas tree. So I sit down to write to you, once again, my wish list.
Over the past few years, I realized how bad of a person I can be! I never ask about you or mail you unless it’s Christmas time. The rest of the year, I forget your existence… well almost! In November I start being a “good girl” to reach Christmas all pure and angelic and receive what I ask for.
But it seems that your definition of “good” and mine do not match, not a little bit… not even at all!
The last thing I received from you, according to my list, was that huge Barbie doll house when I was 10.
After it you missed the magic make-up kit, the prince charming, the prince charming with a Porsche car, the perfect man, the eternal beauty, the car, the perfect girl-friends, the perfect boy-friend, the million dollars bank account, the winning lottery ticket, the dream job that starts at 12pm and ends at 3pm, the fancy wardrobe, the unlimited shoes collection, etc…
This year, I address you with a very special request: Can you please send me the definition of “good” according to which you, Santa Claus, judge, us humans, yearly?
For all that I know: I respect my parents even if we argue daily, but it’s through arguments that better relationships are built, no? I do not kill, humans nor reputations. I do not hurt, enemies nor friends. I do not talk behind anyone’s back. I believe in Karma, yes; but I do not work on making it happen. When someone hurts me, I do not react. I sit and pray for him to recognize his mistake. When a boy breaks my heart, I wish him all the good of the world. When a girl backstabs me, I just take my distances without breaking our friendship. When people talk about me behind my back, I just think they are jealous and think by babbling they will ruin the reputation I have. When someone who hurt me asks for my friendship back, I welcome him with open arms. When I am having a bad day at work, I do not wish my boss dies in a car crash. When I am wrong I admit it because I expect people to forgive me, like I forgive them. When I love I love deeply. When I break-up, it takes me almost as long as a “facelift” to get over the relationship. I don’t desire what is not mine. I don’t lie (funny yes but I can’t fall asleep at night if I lie).
So Santa, I ask you… If the above is not the definition of being “good”, then what is?