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Dear Old Saint Nick, I realize that it has been awhile since I wrote to you. Truth be told, it really is your own fault that I have failed to send to you the customary holiday greetings. The last time that I sat down and composed a letter to you, I had asked you kindly to place my two younger sisters on the naughty list, and revoke their gift receiving rights. You see, it was during the late eighties, and one of them had broken my Tina Turner cassette tape. Knowing those were hard to come by, I decided to inform you of the wrong doing immediately so that you could update your list accordingly. Should I have been surprised that you failed to acknowledge my request? Not I, no Sir. I knew that you would let me down, because I have been let down by you for far too many years already. How did you let me down? Let me inform you, kind sir, about just what you did to let me down.

My Gran Grace used to get a big colorful wish-book from one of the big department stores each year. My cousin and I would stare longingly at the pages, dreaming of what we may one day inherit from you. These were little girl wishes, and hopes that were high and beyond our reach. But, we were wide-eyed and innocent, untouched by the darkness that crawls within this world. We had visions of candy-canes, pure white snow, and ice covered ponds on which to skate. Each year I would thumb to the very same page, and stare, dreamy-eyed at the gift that I have longed for my entire life.

Though the mirror upon the small child's vanity was not real, the small strawberry decals were. It was a chaste white Strawberry Shortcake vanity with a matching stool. And I was in complete love with it. Year after year I would plead, beg, hope, and dream to anyone that would hear my entreaties that I would get the vanity for Christmas. Yes, Santa, I even asked you. And year after year my request was overlooked and ignored. Do not think that I am shallow, Mr. Claus, by being angry with you for this only. For after I was grown up a bit more, and had gotten over my earlier disappointment you decided to add insult to injury.

Imagine my surprise when I stumbled into the bedroom of a younger cousin of mine a few Christmases later and found myself faced with the very same vanity that I had always longed for. She got MY vanity! The same vanity that I wanted for half of my life was given to my cousin where it could haunt me for many years to come. Beyond that, I am fairly certain that she never even asked for it, nor appreciated it at all.

Perhaps I should thank you, Mr. Claus, for preparing me at an early age for chronic disappointment. For each year at the very same time, any gift that I covet seems to elude me. I have since learned never to expect anything just to avoid the same disappointment that has haunted me for many years. I just wanted you to know Mr. Claus, that of all the gifts that I have ever asked for from you, that was the hardest one not to receive. I am still quite sad that I never got the 'West Wing' DVD's that I asked for a few years ago, nor the Victoria's Secret gift cards that I longed for last year, and I am sure that the Coach gift cards that I hope for this year will also remain elusive. So, Santa, I simply want you to know that I forgive you. But I will never forget.

Learn more about this author, Shawna Blake.
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