O.C. Writers

By Barbara Neal Varma // 

It’s hot and humid outside, and I’m thinking of Christmas.

Because I need to set my sights on a cooler, calmer time. A time filled with joy and hugs and real smiles again instead of crinkly eyes above a mask. 

And so I write this letter:

Dear Santa,

I’ve been mostly good—at least in ways I think count during a pandemic. I’ve sheltered-in-place, washed my hands, and helped hubby cook dinner without complaint. I’ve kept my chin up, my spirits high, and my body moving. Most days I manage to turn my frown upside down.  

It hasn’t been easy. Back in March, reports of The virus is coming! The virus is coming! really scared me. I was all too happy to stay at home and out of harm’s way while binge-watching Disney+.

But then the storm of people getting sick hit our communities, our hospitals, our hearts. Those we held dear we had to keep at a distance while huddling at home with others lucky enough to be living with us (I keep telling my husband) when the lockdown began.

The dreaded virus came close a few times. Friends of friends landed in the hospital; sadly a few didn’t come home. I couldn’t think about it, couldn’t dwell without crying, and so laughed my way through instead, joking with the best of ’em about toilet paper gone MIA and how giving myself a pedicure at home was quite the contorted workout.

I’ve followed the floor arrows at Vons, socially distanced myself from others, and generally kept my micro-droplets to myself. I’ve hunkered down here in the writing cave, sending written messages of hope and humor to those in need of some smiles or at least a short break from the insanity that is 2020.

As a community we’ve been there for each other, waving Happy Birthday signs outside the senior care facility to coax a smile out of Grams and going grocery shopping for those who can’t. We’ve learned how to stay connected via Zoom, use the contactless pay system to avoid germies, and cheered our favorite sports teams from the living room couch instead of a high-risk, packed stadium.

All in all, Santa, we have tried our best.

Which is why I’m humbly asking if you can spare us some Christmas grace in addition to the usual train sets and boxes of See’s candies (not that I’d turn down chocolate. As if!). More love and less hate, please; a safe vaccine against the virus, and, for those of us living on the West Coast, rain.

Because we’re all tired from the battle and ready to watch How The Grinch Stole Christmas (any version will do), feet up, generously spiked eggnog in hand.

I know this letter is long and my wish list ambitious, but when the world turns upside down, it’s good to believe in magic. It’s good to believe in you.

Shout-out to Mrs. Claus!

Socially distant hugs,

~ Barbara V.

PS: Don’t worry, I’ll wear gloves when setting out the milk and cookies. Please wear a mask.

---

BARBARA NEAL VARMA is a contributing writer to Orange Coast Magazine and has appeared in other notable publications, including The Atlantic. Her easy-humor personal essays have proven popular with readers, one gaining numerous hits on Orange Coast Magazine‘s website. (Hello: Desperately Seeking Donny.) You can learn more at BarbaraNealVarma.com.