Written after listening to a student read from "A Christmas Memory," a prompt used in a creative writing workshop for high school students.
Dear Truman,
I am always so happy to reread, or listen to, or see the Hallmark Classic version of “A Christmas Memory.” Each time, I hungrily consume your magical words, words that taste like the gems of candied fruit and the “daisy yellow” whiskey in the fruitcakes you and your cousin made, but there is more for me in this story than the sumptuous words. I love knowing that once upon a time, a boy like you, an outcast in his home then and in the world later, was once wrapped in the comfort of a woman like Sook. Even though biographers tell us of your precocious intelligence, penning stories, reading difficult books, I like to picture you pushing the buggy to collect the fruitcake walnuts and decorating a paper kite for your buddy. Was it your best time then, Truman? Even after the Black and White Ball, after the reviews, after the literary world fell at your feet, would you trade it all for another day spent with Sook pasting stars on paper kites?
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