Dear Santa,

I hope this letter finds you warm and well at the North Pole. I also would like to extend my condolences to Mrs. Claus, who is probably the most harried woman in the hemisphere right now. Although some of my mom friends are snorting with derision, no doubt. Hey, they brought it on themselves. Dern kids.

I was never taught to believe in you. I think I waited until third grade to ruin it for everybody else, though. Seemed like about time to be growing up and putting away the foolishness. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve found Santa in some. Really, it’s Jesus but some of these good people are self-proclaimed atheists, so let’s just agree to disagree, yes? In the spirit of Christmas and all. So what I’m writing to say, is what everyone writes to you about- my wishes. I’ve been good….but I’ve also been bad. To be honest, it’s probably an even split. I won’t even try to convince you, you see me when I’m sleeping, you know when I’m awake…but even you gotta admit, Santa, that I got pushed to the edge and when I’m cornered….well, it ain’t pretty. I normally wouldn’t write on behalf of anybody but there are people in my life that deserve a little extra sparkle for helping me out this year. I would say I’d take care of them, but where’s the magic in that? Also…..

And yes, I’m aware everybody else got their letters in the mail weeks ago. I believe in magic, okay???

First of all, I would like to ask for a vacation on behalf of my bestie and her husband. She’s got the weight of the world on her right now with her aging parents and the most ungrateful son that ever drew breath (you can bring him a truckload of coal–or maybe gravel to shovel) all living under one roof with their two other sons and four dogs. I cannot even imagine. If you could bring all the practical and levelheaded women in my life something functional that will last a long time. Something gloriously expensive that they would never splurge on themselves, like a KitchenAid mixer or a nice baking dish from Williams Sonoma. They’ve seen me at my best and worst the last eighteen months (my best is just me with a fully made-up face sucking down a margarita. My worst is…well, you know). Which brings me to someone I never thought I would have to be thankful for: the law offices of Andrew Farmer and most especially, his paralegal, Marie. Ol’ girl can certainly cut and slash with the best of ’em. She needs a trip to the spa, a day without a ringing phone and pinging emails. My good friend Lorie who helps find the perfect gift for what seems like every lady in the county, twice. Sunday school teachers, Kindergarten teachers, piano teachers. She has to help all us last minute Lucys pick out what we put off (or forgot) for our hairdresser, our co-worker, our pedicurist. She’s the queen diva, she knows what everybody wants. I want her heart healed from the loss of both her boxers that she lost this year. I think she has everything else 😉 Two more women who’ve definitely had their trials this year ..one needs discernment and to find out who she is (I know that’s a weird request of Santa, maybe bring her some Mac makeup, too) and the other lady needs some really good news and progress. I think she’d like a housekeeper for a year. I think sometimes we’re sent hardships to put priorities back in place and maybe to.find out who really is truly in your corner. There’s a few more special people, one who truly restored my faith in AMY. I doubt he even knows he helped. But thanks to him, I’m assured that I’m exactly as I always was, fun and feisty. This man should be gifted with all the beer he can ever hope to drink. I can’t think of anything else, and he probably can’t, either. My board, they put up with me and I put up with them! May their crops be plentiful and their cattle gain. May cattle bring good prices in the coming year and may we be blessed with enough rain. I want to ask for graciousness and goodness and plenty of heartwarming moments for librarians everywhere, may they always remember why they do what they do. May they be appreciated by all who meet them.

What do I want? Oh, just an intelligent, witty man with rugged good looks who has the sense to give me my space and who harbors a healthy appetite for my unhealthy cooking. It wouldn’t hurt for him to have basic electrical and plumbing skills; my house is old. He must have a good, steady job. I’ve been told it takes a lot to handle me, so I guess it goes without saying he needs to be a man with strong qualities and thick skin. I don’t want someone to take my breath away anymore…I want to be able to breathe deep and relax and know that everything is and will always be OKAY. The only time I want to be dizzy is because he’s got me laughing so hard I cannot stop. Send me one of those, Santa. I need to do some more traveling, too. I’m down for Ireland and Alaska anytime. I also wish that everybody can grant understanding, even if kindness cannot be extended. It’s 2020, after all. We should all be able to see clearly. And I hope that any little girl that’s wishing for a horse tonight gets one, even if it’s just in the form of a few riding lessons. Gotta start somewhere.

I guess that’s it, Santa. That’s enough. I’m lucky that I’ve pretty much got it all and I know it. Safe travels around the globe. Watch out for us armed citizens, we shoot first and ask questions later.

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy

Now, to y’all: Leave a carrot for Rudolph, and one for your wish horse. Hot chocolate for Santa and cookies, too. ‘Cause he don’t look like this:

I want each of you to know that I think of you often. Sometimes we think nobody cares because our phone doesn’t ring not one time all day, or we don’t get invited to dinner by our friends as often as we like. I’m reminded regularly that there are many people out there thinking and praying for me. As I am for you. Last year was my hard candy Christmas. This year it’s all visions of sugar plums dancing again.

Merry Christmas. May God bless us, every one.