To tell you what this means to me, I should go back. Wayyy back.

I grew up with two older siblings, a mama and a daddy. We were poor but loved each other a lot and loved hard. Me, my older siblings and mama were all born in December. On account of being poor (BIG poor) not much was ever made of birthdays or Christmas. When I was young, in the center of the birthday month, my dad killed himself. He was my best friend. I can’t even explain him or how it felt but this isn’t the place anyway. To put it simply, December is...a month.

My family celebrates my birthday in October. We back up two months and everyone holds me and cries with me in December. We can’t talk about it much because I break. I’m not okay. I don’t know if I ever will be again. I’ve worked hard since he died. I went to lots and lots of school and have done my best, but there’s a sadness to this month I can’t even articulate. No matter how far I go or achieve, I can’t get past this one thing. How I could’ve fixed it. How if I’d known, the moment wouldn’t be sad for everyone. If I’d known I could fix December and no one would be sad again.

I can’t fix it. I can’t go back.

The best solace I’ve found so far is giving and loving as hard as I can. I like Reddit Secret Santa. Giving repairs my heart. I feel whole. I’m fixing things I couldn’t. Giving happiness where I couldn’t.

I have participated since 2015 and tell my Santas enough so they know I’m not a dependapotomus. I tell them about me but tell them my happiness is giving and knowing about them. I expect nothing. I know they have to send something, so I tell them to send a letter about themselves. When I tell them about me, I tell them very little about what I’ve done since that day in December, but talk about my goals. Right now, I’m mid-career and have fallen in love with travel and seeing the world beyond the dirty slum I grew up in. I have seen some of the world and love all the folks I’ve seen in it. I live in the city but dream of owning chickens and bees and living a quiet country life. I have a ways to go, but I’m working on it and will do it. It’s my dream. I only tell them of what I hope of that’s ahead. Never what’s behind.

I told my Santa I’d just like to know about them. I’m infinitely interested in the places and people of the world. Tell me your favorite things. Tell me about you. I’m okay. Here are my goals. I’m just here to give.

What my Santa did still has me in tears.

They sent me this map to scratch off the few places I’ve been on this planet. I have goals, big goals, and having this makes me feel like it’s all a scratch off away and so, so attainable. I’ve got a chicken to keep me company until I escape the city and live my quiet country life.

What you attain in this life is one thing, but feeling like your unfulfilled goals are possible is a gift few can feel. Thanks to my Santa, I feel that. Without even knowing me, I feel like my Santa saw me and believes in me. I’m going to be crying happy tears through the rest of this December and knowing what’s possible; not what’s lost.

Thank you more than words, u/sweetlysouthern. You’ve made my month, year, future. I love you so much and am so grateful. It’s hard for me to feel anything but sad during this month, but you’ve given me hope and belief in myself that’s stronger than anything. There really aren’t words for my gratitude.