A Letter from Santa

“I can’t believe you guys!” I stood between Ian and James and looked from face to face. “Christmas is only two weeks away, and you’re acting like goblins.” I raised my voice. “Are you nuts?”

They shot a venomous glance at each other, then at me.

“Get to your rooms.”

Something seeped in, and they went to their bedrooms in peace.

Sandi turned to me. “Well?”

“Coal. I mean, charcoal. In a wrapped package that says, ‘OPEN ME FIRST,’ along with a letter from Santa.”

On Christmas morning, both boys rushed down the stairs, Sandi and I not far behind.

Sandi was all smiles when she lifted the two packages. She gave them to the boys and both tore into them. A sandwich bag, with a charcoal briquette above a letter printed in a script-like font were the only contents. James perused his letter and his smile vanished.

Sandi sat beside Ian and read his out loud.

The letters were essentially the same, but tailored for each boy. They spoke of selfishness, greed, hatefulness and spite with example after example.

Halfway through Ian’s letter, he spoke through his tears. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

Sandi gave him a loving smile. And continued to the end.

That afternoon, Ian came to my side.

“Dad, we could have gotten nothing, right?”

I nodded.

“But, we were rotten. Why’d we get anything?”

“Remember what the letter said? You got a warning and a second chance. What else did it say?”

“Don’t ignore the warning and don’t throw away the second chance. But, why?”

“Christmas is a season of love. It’s also a time of redemption.”

He glanced at the tree, nodded and went back to his tablet, but put his charcoal briquette, safe in its sandwich bag, in front of him.

William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.