A Christmas Wish

Her first wish

Spell

24 December 2009 ( 7 years old )

Dad, where are you.

The Christmas lights are shining brightly in the middle of the room. Music that warms my heart blasted in the air. I know it is a way mum gets over the awkwardness that is hanging between us. I really want daddy home.

There were times when Christmas wasn’t like that. They were filled with happiness, joy and delight. Stardust of fairies would be shimmering around our house. Dora used to tell me that she really admire our home, our family. We were not wealthy, but rich enough to get us a yum-yum dinner during Christmas.

That’s how daddy always asked me.

“Is the dinner yum-yum, Spell?” He would ask me with his hoarse voice. Mom said dad’s voice was like that because he smoked way too much when he was young. He was just a few years older than me when he got addicted with smoking.

I would always nod in excitement.

Not anymore. It was just not the same anymore.

There were times when I tried throwing tantrums just to attract his attention. He would just give me a sideway glance, sometimes a stare filled with annoyance.

Last week, when my forehead was burning as if we could barbeque on top, mom asked daddy to take care of me when she needed to leave home. He tugged me to bed after giving me the bitter medicine. I asked him to sing me a lullaby. He dismissed me with a wave. There was no sympathy with his eyes at all. There was just sheer hatred.

I remembered the time when daddy threw my favourite porcelain doll. I was only two. It shattered into pieces. The broken piece drew a line across my elbow. There was ruby red blood flowing out of the wound. I will never forget the sound of the porcelain doll breaking into pieces.

Clang.

“You know what Spell. Let’s just eat. He is not coming.” Mom said, without a tinge of sadness, just disappointment.

“Just a minute, mum.”

I went back to my room and pulled out a piece of paper. With my ugly handwriting, I wrote:

Dear SANTA,

I want my daddy back. I want his care, his concern and his love.

Can you bring him back with your power that is strong enough to break Earth into pieces?

That’s my one and only Christmas wish.

I love you daddy.

I love you mum.

I love you Santa Claus.

Love,

Spell.

I gave the paper a light kiss and put in into the envelope.

To Santa Claus

I wrote on the front of the envelope, underlined, bolded with an aqua-coloured Sharpie.

“Mum, could you bring me to the wishing tree in front of our house?”

I hung the letter to Santa on the tree. A gush of wind made my whole body shivered.

“Let’s go back in.”

Daddy didn’t appear that night.

No phone calls from him.

Not a word from him.

Nothing.

That marks the end of the day.