Letter
So, picture this: Im walking home from work, right, and theres this crisp snow under my boots, proper crunching, and I randomly start remembering being a kid. You knowwhizzing down hills on your school bag, pelting snowballs at your mates, chewing on icicles even though your mum told you not to, all that golden childhood magic
Suddenly, I hear a little kid crying, proper heartbroken. I look around and theres this boy, maybe seven or eight, sat on a bench in a brown coat and a grey beanie, absolutely sobbing, his tears all over his cheeks.
I go over. Hey there, mate, are you lost? Why are you crying? I ask.
Between sniffs, he says, I lost my letter I had it in my pocket, then I looked and it was gone, and he just bursts out again.
I tell him, Oh, dont worry. Lets have a look for it together. What sort of letter was it? Was it something for your mum?
He shakes his head. I wrote it. To Father Christmas Mum doesnt know
Thats a real shame, but look, you can always write another, I try to reassure him.
But it wont get there in time! he wails.
Tell you what, you hurry on homegetting dark nowand Ill look for your letter here. If I find it, Ill make sure it gets to Father Christmas. Deal?
He stares at me through red eyes. Will you really send it?
I promise! Father Christmas always knows what kids write. Even if I dont find it, I reckon hell sort something out for you
He wipes his face with his sleeve, nods, and dashes off.
Poor lad. Spent all that time writing, and then this. I smile, because it reminds me of when I believed in Christmas magicthat feeling you get unwrapping presents under the tree, convinced Father Christmas got your letter. Seems like a hundred years ago
Soon my own boy will be writing to Santa, but right now, Noahs only fourhe cant quite manage it yet.
Anyway, I keep walking, scanning the ground, but no sign of any letter. Gutted for the little man. He mustve been so hopeful
Then, honestly, you wouldnt believe it, I spot the corner of an envelope sticking out a snowdrift. I carefully fish it outyes! Thats it!
Bit soggy, so I pop it carefully in my bag so it doesnt tear.
Back home, Georgies cooking dinner and Noahs busy with his toy cars. Our flat is snug and homely, and I feel dead lucky every time I walk in.
I say, Georgie, youll never guess. Walking home and I find this boy, big tears, lost his letter to Father Christmas. But lookI found it! Want to see what he wrote?
I pull out the envelope, covered in a childish scrawl: To Father Christmas, from Harry Lewis.
Shall we open it then, see what he asked for? Georgie says.
We might as well. Not like it was going to go anywhere from under a snowdrift, I reply.
I carefully unfold a notebook sheet, and I read aloud:
Dear Father Christmas,
My name is Harry Lewis. I live at 34 Oak Road. Im nine and in Year 4. I like playing football and running about with my mates.
I live with my mum Emily and my gran Linda. We just moved into an old little house, and some really kind people let us stay here.
We used to live with my dad in another town. Dad used to drink too much and hurt mum. Sometimes me too. Mum and granshes dads mumused to cry loads, and I cried as well. So we ran away, and gran came too.
Father Christmas, can you help my mum find a new job, please? Mum scrubs floors but her back is really bad. And maybe give mum a new dress, because hers is all ripped. My mums tall, slim, and shes really beautiful.
Could you get some tablets for gran, so her knees stop hurting? Its rough for her to walk, but shes not that old really. Also, gran dreams of a fluffy housecoat to keep her warm, because she gets cold a lot. Grans small and skinny.
And meI wish for a beautiful Christmas tree with lights and colourful decorations. Mum used to put up a tree and it felt like a proper holiday, until dad got drunk and knocked it over
Really hoping you get this, Father Christmas.
Harry Lewis.
I look over at Georgie, and shes got tears in her eyes.
God, thats so touching she says. Poor little bloke. Escaped a nightmare, but now they cant even afford anything nice And fancy asking for stuff for his mum and gran, and just the tree for himself. Makes you want to do something, doesnt it?
Yeah, you can see theyve really been through it, I agree. And she took her mother-in-law with her too. Seems like proper good people. Hey, what if we make this boys dream come true, Georgie? What do you reckon?
Id adore that, Tom. You know what it was like for me, growing up with Dad drinking and carrying on. I only wish Mum had left him. Just couldnt get herself to do it, not till the end, she says quietly.
Actually, we need an admin at my place, pays well and its not cleaning, I say, the idea suddenly popping into my head.
Lets borrow the Santa and Elf costumes from the Smiths and visit them at home! Let Harry believe in miracles Well throw them a proper celebration!
Ill get gran those arthritis tablets Mum used to use, a fluffy dressing gown, a nice but affordable dress for his mum, and pick up some sweets, tangerines, and baubles. There are Christmas sales, so we can get decent things without breaking the bank, Georgie says, getting all excited.
I nod. And Ill get him a little smartphone toodoubt hes got one. Well make it special, yeah? Thank God we can afford it. Why not share a bit of kindness?
Im in! says Georgie. She hugs me, and at that moment, I just feel so lucky to be on the same page, you know?
Next day, Georgie picks up a simple but pretty dark green dress, a soft pale pink dressing gown, pills for gran, chocs, tangerines, and shiny decorations. I swing by and buy a small Christmas treeone for Harry and a mini one for usand grab a budget smartphone.
We borrow the fancy dress gear from our mates, fill a big sack with all the presents, and set off to the address on Oak Road. Noahs at Grandmas for the evening.
The house is a bit wonky, with a drooping old fencedefinitely seen better days. But theres a warm light in the window.
I grab the tree, Georgie takes the sack, and we traipse up the path and give a gentle knock.
A tall, fair-haired woman around 35 opens upmust be Emily, Harrys mum.
She looks baffled at the sight of us all dressed up. Oh! We didnt book any Santa-grams You sure youve not got the wrong place? she says politely.
Is Harry Lewis here? I ask in my best Santa voice.
Thats my son, she replies.
Mum, whos there? a little voice pipes up. Harry comes barreling into the hall, all in joggers and a jumper.
Wow! Father Christmas!
Hello, Harry! I got your letter, and heres my Elf Georgie. May we come in?
Mum, he got my letter! That man found it and sent it on like he promised! This is amazing! Please come in! Harry shouts, absolutely beaming.
Emily, smiling now, welcomes us in. His gran pops out of the sitting roompetite and slim. When Harry sees the Christmas tree, his eyes go so wide youd think hed seen a miracle.
Is that for us? Its beautiful! It even smells like Christmas!
Its all yours, Harry. And here are decorations and lights for you to put on later. But before you get your presents, Santa likes to hear a song or a story, thats the rule, I say, deepening my voice for effect.
Harry goes shy and cant remember a poem or anything, but honestly, he looks so overjoyed just seeing Santa.
I tell him, Weve heard youve been a really good boy this yearloving your mum and gran, helping out, scoring well at school.
Now, lets see what weve got in our sack, eh? I nudge.
He glances at his mum, who nods, and gingerly digs into the sack. First, out comes a box with a red ribbon: the fluffy housecoat for his gran.
He runs over to gran, This is for you! I wrote about it!
Oh my days, is it really for me? she gasps, slipping it on over her clothes and tying the belt. Perfect fit! Thank you, Santa and Elf! Ive never had one like this.
Next, he hands the dress to his mum, then the tablets for gran, both of them just gazing at the gifts, stunned.
Then Harry finds a huge bag of chocolates and tangerines, and at the topa box with a shiny new smartphone.
For me? A phone? Proper phone? This is amazing, Santa! I knew itI always believed in you! Thank you so much! he shouts, crying tears full of joy.
We say our Christmas wishes and get ready to go. Harrys already going through the box, trying to get the phone open.
Emily and gran follow us into the hall. Pleasewho are you? How do you know Harry?
I pass over Harrys letter and a business card. I found his letter and wanted to make his Christmas. And we need an admin at workI hope you consider applying. Youd be perfect.
Emily hugs us, all choked up. This is all so incredible. Harrys never been so happy. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
Driving home, neither of us says much. We just feel quietly happy. Giving those presents away was, honestly, way better than getting any ourselves. Seeing that disbelief turn to pure, shining happiness in that boys facethats the kind of thing money cant buy. And, you know, well earn back anything we spent. But moments like that, sharing something real, you just cant put a price on them.
