Written by Shantanu Datta, a father who recently moved to Saskatoon with his family in November 2023, this First Person column shares a heartwarming tale. For more First Person stories, check out the FAQ.
One warm Tuesday afternoon, my 11-year-old daughter surprised me with a handwritten letter.
“Dad, can you mail this for me?”
Growing up in a digital age, she rarely writes letters, especially on paper. After returning from school, eating her meal, disappearing into her room, and returning to me, she handed me the letter.
“It’s a letter to Santa Claus,” she explained, in response to my puzzled expression. “I’ve apologized for the delay due to our recent move to Canada. But I’m confident he’ll receive it in time as we’re closer to the North Pole, and with no snow yet, the postman can deliver it faster.”
These days, our conversations often revolve around snow, or the lack thereof. I glanced at the ruled sheet torn from her practice notebook. Amid her extensive wish list, one request stood out: “Some snow please (lots, if possible).”
This line transported me back to the time when we were gearing up for the journey from New Delhi to Canada. For my daughter, one of the most anticipated aspects was experiencing a genuine snowy Christmas, unlike the artificial “snowflakes” made of cotton wool by kids in many parts of India during the season.
Her perception of Canada was shaped by online news from Saskatchewan, showing snow in October as we finalized our departure from Delhi.
She had seen Hollywood movies depicting people sledding, bundled in down jackets and snow boots, or enjoying Christmas indoors, overcoming challenges on snowy days. Scenes of individuals sipping hot chocolate by the fire or brushing snow off their jackets as they enter cozy cafes filled her imagination.
In essence, that’s the essence of a “real” Christmas and New Year celebration, right?
How can Santa navigate through snowless terrain with his reindeer? Will he land his sleigh on bare ground? I envision him opting for public transport or hailing a cab.
“How will he manage all the gifts?” my daughter questions.
The weather in Saskatoon that Tuesday afternoon brought me back to reality. It was mid-December, and the forecast predicts a brown Christmas and possibly a similar New Year ahead. My daughter is already hopeful that her fear of a cotton wool Christmas doesn’t materialize during our next grocery run.
