You've asked what you can send me while I'm on cruise; those things
which I want but cannot get while on the ship thousands of miles away. The
list was fairly easy to write. I suspect that it won't be so easy to fill the order.
Please send me autumn. Fill a box with that special chill the evenings
get that forebodes the cold of winter, that Jack Frost nip. Add the colors
of fall: the
yellows, reds and browns of leaves whose cycle of life has ended. Send me
the sound they make as
you shuffle through ankle-deep blankets of them scattered across the yard.
to wrap some of the fragrant smoke which spirals up from the pile as they
with it the yellow harvest moon caught in the naked branches of a tree
has begun its winter sleep.
Later you can send me winter. Send me the first heavy snowfall; that
muted, magical silence which comes down across the land with the fat flakes
up quickly. Don't forget the taste of snowflakes on my tongue, or the
dusting of snow
caught in your hair like jewels. Send me a blanket of white under a full
the land seems to glow. Send me a snowman, or even better a snow family
snow-daddy, snow-mommy and little snow children with button eyes, sticks
for arms and carrots
for noses. Send me an evening in front of a fireplace with hopes and dreams
in the flames.
Send me some of your warmth, as we snuggle beneath the covers on a cold
Icicles, too; long sturdy ones and thin delicate ones.
The holidays, too, I'll want those. Send me Halloween with the little
witches, ghosts, cowboys and pirates. Carefully wrap for me the shy voices
"trick or treat" from the little fairies joining in the ritual for the
Package them carefully with the louder, bolder cries of the more
experienced trolls and
Indians hidden safely behind disguises they are sure could fool even their
own parents. Send me the
smell of freshly carved pumpkins with their funny or horrifying
jack-o-lantern grins and
snarls. Capture for me some of the more grown-up magic that comes later
that one night a
year near the witching hour, when after the little ones are tucked in their
the house is quiet except maybe for a branch against the window and even
grownups get an
uneasy feeling that perhaps there are haunts and goblins about in the
Save for me the smells of roast turkey and dressing, homemade breads and
pies. Send me the smells of Thanksgiving, as the food is cooked all day and
is piled higher and higher. Send me that quiet sense of pride and
accomplishment that rests
briefly between setting the table and the feasting frenzy.
Send me a Christmas tree. Not just any tree; a fresh cut
tree felled by small hands assisted by mom and dad. Send it to me with
smell, some lights and sparkles all draped in tinsel carelessly tossed here
and there as the
young 'uns try to out do each other. Send me a glass of eggnog, ever so
Take your sips first, and leave the prints from your lips there on the
glass for me to
see and taste. Send me that sleepless anticipation of the night before
when little angels are trying so hard to go to sleep, knowing in their
hearts that Santa
won't come until they sleep. Share with me a glass of milk and a couple of
cookies as we help preserve the fleeting illusions of childhood. Send me
shouts as little ones get their first glimpse of the piles of gifts left by
St Nick. Send
the crinkle and tear of wrapping paper and the oohs and aahs that punctuate
each gift as it is
exposed and shown around. Send me the hugs as everyone opens the gifts that
what I wanted!"
For the last day of the year, send me a quiet evening
spent with you as we look forward to another year together, and marvel at
all we survived the
Space out the packages, but send me all the changes of
season, all the day-to-day worries and joys, all the holidays that I'll
miss as I sit
halfway around the world from you. Most of all, send me your thoughts and
hopes, your dreams and
wishes, your smiles and tears.
Most of all, send me your love.