Isabelle Cimon
contributing writer
Dear
Santa...
Dear Santa,
I have been a good Canadian girl this year. I committed my life to God, I loved and hon-
bit, right? But, who wouldn’t? Who said wintertime in Canada is anything near the joy and
ored my husband David, cherished my two boys Julien and Arnaud, cheered up the lives of
excitement the Griswold family is showing off? Putting up with cousin Eddie is a piece of
my friends and took great care of my patients. Oh! By the way, Santa, I saved a few hearts
cake compared to surviving a real Canadian winter.
and helped a few souls this year. God knows…
30
If you give me the South for Christmas, Santa, I promise to lay down my life for protect-
Don’t worry, Santa, my wish list is kind of short this holiday season, but challenging,
ing and promoting the North and its unique Christmas spirit when I’m back (Well, if I ever
just like my life as a mom, wife and doctor. I’ve just got one wish, Santa. One sweet little
come back!). Here are a few personal suggestions: providing shelter for teen elves in crisis
wish that’s a dream to me. A dream awakening all my senses. My Christmas wish smells
or therapy for those who can’t take anymore ugly (Oops! Sorry, Santa!) high-end designer
like boiled peanuts, is comforting like an afternoon spent on a porch and is as sweet as a
Christmas sweater contests without going as wild as a yeti or as green as the Grinch. By the
Georgia peach shortcake.
way, Santa, got a SantaCare Plan up there?
Please, Santa, I want the South for Christmas! That’s it! Not any South though, Santa.
I miss the South so much it hurts. It’s hurting like the pain of an arctic wind biting my skin,
The good Ole American South. The South where words are so long they stretch to Heaven,
of a lonely night on Christmas Eve, of a day of wavering faith. Everything feels better down
where time is never in a hurry and sweet tea is brewed slowly and lovingly. Where accents
South. Watermelon is juicier, dreams are sweeter, time is slower and kisses taste better,
are so smooth and mellow it competes with dark molasses.
way better. I think that I would fit in well down South, Santa. Don’t you think? I am devoted
That’s the kind of South I want for Christmas, Santa. The one and only where people
to God and to my family. I’ve got a good heart and good manners. I sure know how to fix
captured my Northern heart and shaped it into a divine-smelling cinnamon roll so I would
casseroles and I mostly have nice hair days. But, most of all, I deeply love the South and
be enlaced with Southern culture for eternity. The kind of eternity that makes me feel alive
Southerners. I cherish the memories of those Southerners who, over the years, made me
and conscious... Conscious that the best things in life are simple and that the South cele-
feel like I could belong there. Maybe I could some day.
brates and respects the simplest and most important things in life: friends, family, (fried)
Did you know, Santa, that every time I get off the plane and my sweet little pink toes make
food, firm integrity for conservative values and a fever for football! The same eternity that
a first contact with the Southern ground, I cross myself, thank God for creating the South,
draws me closer to God and keeps me faithful, devoted and obedient.
pray to every single Catholic Saint for protecting the Southerners and utter softly, “ Home
I know, Santa, that you’ve got a thing for the North, right? You can’t imagine losing a loyal
Sweet Home, here I come.” Is that love, Santa? If it’s not, it definitely feels like it, however.
Northerner to the good Ole South. But, I have been a faithful Northern disciple for all my
But, I wonder sometimes if I’ll find that affection and mutual acceptance despite cultural
life. I watched Frosty the Snowman on TV every Christmas night and cried in my pajamas.
difference down South. Just like New Yorkers did with your jolly elf Buddy or Cindy Lou a nd
I scraped the ice off my windshield as my early morning workout every day. I shoveled my
the Grinch. I am sure I will, Santa. Just like Canadians are known to rock snowsuits with
car out of snow banks...with my bare hands! Okay, Santa, I think I complained. A tiny little
style, Southerners are loved and respected for their welcoming spirits and warm hearts.
DECEMBER 2015
SHEMAGAZINE.COM