Sitting, Waiting for Santa

The bottom of my left sole itches and so I scratch it and then I’m typing on my blog to you. And with half my attention, I’m watching out of the window; waiting for Santa to make his yearly appearance. He’s late. Again.

While I’m whiling away the time I’m thinking of you. You’re always listening. Always on. You never sleep and I’m grateful for that because I sometimes need you in those odd moments when I can’t get to sleep. It’s not often, but there are times when my mind whirrs so much that it won’t let me drop off. When…

But tonight’s not one of those nights. I’m okay. I’m just waiting for Santa. I can wait a little longer. I don’t need to sleep. Except that, do you think he would mind if I laid down while I wait? And, boy but does that pillow look comfortable! And if I close my eyes then do you think he’d mind? And if I just stop typing? Just for a bit? Then…

12 thoughts on “Sitting, Waiting for Santa

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