to want for
December 29, 2013 § 8 Comments
This holiday my favorite gift was the product of disappointment. It began when my daughter first drafted a letter to Santa asking for a pet bunny. Her words were carefully drawn and conscientiously void of spelling errors; she elaborated over important details and wrapped her request in an elegantly fashioned envelope that was sealed with faith in magic.
At my first opportunity to interfere with her wish I consciously held each rational word to myself. It would have been simple to undermine her request and direct her to a more attainable dream, but the moment begged silence in place of reason; instead I dwelled on the accomplishment between the lines of her letter. The clarity of her perfectly formed letters and tidy punctuation.
The letter itself is a time capsule of my daughter’s dreams and literacy. Gone were the hurried, phonetic scribbles adorned with artwork that had always marked her creative individuality and youth. In place was a more mature and lovingly intentional letter that bound us to a new moment in time.
Throughout the month of December my daughter’s anticipation increased in proportion to each calendar day. On the eve of Christmas morning, I was as quiet in my doubt as my daughter was joyful in her faith. My sleep was interrupted with my daughter’s dreams and I wished fervently for the impossible to delay disappointment.
Christmas morning a toy bunny sat motionless beside the tree and a letter of explanation rested beside the lovingly fashioned treats that had been sampled in our sleep. I gauged my daughter’s reaction through the camera lens, looking for signs of her response.
The note simply stated the practicalities of traveling across the world with an animal unsuited for extreme weather while acknowledging my daughter’s maturity. Somewhere between the lines of explanation I saw the first light of a most genuinely pleased smile spark behind my daughter’s eyes.
When she looked up it was with joy and content resignation to say: It is enough that he understood. It was a gift that was born of innocence and maturity, faith and frustration; a moment I could not singlehandedly purchase or craft and a culmination of days unorchestrated but informed by the promise of wishing without the certainty of knowing.
scribblechic 
You might consider submitting this one for publication some time next fall. Just saying 🙂
I have never submitted writing for publication (aside from the personal ramblings I share publicly here). Perhaps I’ll have to amend my resolutions.
Why not! I will warn you, though, that you need to expect some rejection so create a list of possible publications first, prioritize them and then go ahead, one by one, through the list until you get success. Some day I’ll tell you about my friend Alfred and the lesson he learned–and then taught me–about thriving in an atmosphere in which you have to expect some adversity 🙂
I think it is a combination of two simple factors. First, I’m not sure where I would begin. The who and how of it are technicalities for certain. Perhaps the more honest source of my resistance rests in letting go of something intimate in expression. Prior to this experience, I restrained my writing to personal letters.
Thank you for the kind words of encouragement and counsel.
In the end I know you will make the best choice as, after all only you has access to the full data set that is “you.” 🙂
One thing you might consider, though, is to not “swing for the fence” but, instead, to join a local community of professional writers. Is a local publication such as a newspaper looking for occasional pieces? That’s where I’d start. That will give you the chance to expand your audience in a way that is manageable while, at the same time, giving you a chance to alter your “voice” in a way that works for you and not for some huge conglomerate with its own (and possibly contradictory) agenda.
Thank you, Maurice!
I’d love to read that letter from Santa. I’m sure it was filled with the same wisdom and sensitivity that seeps from the pores of each post you write.
Happy New Year to you and your family, Marie.
Thank you, Charles. Wisdom and sensitivity are high praise, but the suggestion of consistency offers a more intimate affirmation of my intentions in preserving these excerpts of my experiences in this exceptionally average story.
Wishing you are your family a lovely New Year.