Hi there. It’s me again, Santa, it’s Gabriella—you hear from me every year.  And every year, I ask for something materialistic.  Something you can buy at a store, something you pay for, something your elves can make.  But really, I don’t think my life is drastically improved by a new phone, or new art supplies, or new clothes.  I have so much clothing I need two wardrobes and a full closet to fit it all.  My phone is somewhat old, but at its core it still does what I need it to do most: communicate and procrastinate.  I would enjoy some art supplies, but I think I can make do with some cheap Target-brand stuff.  I doubt Vincent Van Gogh could afford Copics, either.  

I think what I would really like is the knowledge, with absolute certainty, that I’ll be happy.  And I don’t mean the half-assed promise that I’ll work endlessly my whole life only to be rewarded by five years of retirement in which I worry constantly about death and my failing hip.  I don’t need to know how I find happiness, either.  I just want to be reassured that, as I grow older, I’ll have a sound enough mind to find excitement in the little things in life.  Kind of like Jim from “The Office.”  Even though he works a dead-end job, he still finds entertainment in those small humorous or loving moments. Small amounts of joy spread out daily over my whole life.  Maybe one day I’ll get a horrible score on a test in college, but you’ll remind me that even though I made some mistakes, I understand the material better than I did last week.  Maybe I’ll be filing for bankruptcy after my company collapses, but I’ll remember that I’m only thirty-five and money isn’t the end of everything and that I still have a house and my cat’s still alive and that the people dear to me still love me.

Can you make that wish come true?

Thanks,

Gabi