Dear Santa,
My name is Jennifer Hopewell and I am ten years old. The last time I wrote to you I was seven and a half. I was the one that wanted tickets to Hamilton. Everybody said no kid wants tickets to a play but I did and they were in my stocking. Thank you very much.
You don’t need to bring me anything this year. I am at Children’s Hospital. I have been here a month and Mom and Dad never answer me when I ask if I’ll be home for Christmas.
I heard Mom crying in the hallway this morning when she was talking to the doctor. I couldn’t hear him all the way but he said something was getting bigger.
I am getting medicine through all these tubes in my arm. Just like last April. I guess this medicine isn’t working but it hurts the same. I got all kinds of purple marks around the tubes.
Hearing Mom cry wasn’t as bad as seeing Dad cry though. I never knew that dads can cry. All I asked him was does it hurt to die?
I have a nice room here. The tv has cable on it and everything. I saw a movie on hallmark channel last week and the kid in it was sick like me. His mommy and daddy told him to go to the light when he started dying. He looked happy while he was walking to it.
So that’s what I will do. I’ll just go to the light and look for Jesus. And Grandma too.
I’m getting tired now. I hope you don’t mind an email but my handwriting is real bad.
There is just one more thing.
I never told my little brother Timmy that I dropped his toothbrush in the toilet the morning I left to come here. It was an accident and I tried to rinse it off real good.
So far he hasn’t gotten sick from it and I don’t want Timmy to ever get sick from anything. That’s why I just had to write to you and tell you that — -
All I want for Christmas, Santa, is for you to stick a brand new toothbrush for Timmy in your bag.
