SANTO DOMINGO. – I am a 7-year-old girl who lives in the Dominican Republic. This year I behaved well… well, almost all the time. I only fought twice at school, but it was because they pulled my hair ties, so that doesn't count, right?
You already know why I'm writing to you. I want the book "Little Women," a tablet, and also one of BTS's albums. They're my favorite Korean group, and I'd like it to be "Permission to Dance." The songs are so cheerful. It doesn't matter that I don't understand them; I can look up the lyrics. I even know the dances already.
As I write this, my mother came over to tell me what Three Kings Day used to be like. She said that children would leave letters under the bed, put out fresh grass for the camels, water in little jugs, soft drinks, and sometimes cigarettes.
I'll leave them water, not soda, because my mom says that's bad for you, and I don't think I'll find any weed, because there aren't even any plants in the parking lot. I'll ask my dad to bring me some on the way.
Mom told me that at dawn, the horns and whistles woke up the neighborhood, and that boys and girls were confused, showing off their new bicycles, crying dolls, spinning tops with light bulbs, and machine guns with lights.
This is how Three Kings Day was celebrated. (Image created with AI).
And that's how it was in every neighborhood; they weren't even hungry. As soon as they woke up, they'd look under the bed, behind doors, and head out into the street to show off their gifts. If you do that now, the neighbors get angry and tell you to shut up. You definitely can't celebrate Three Kings' Day like you used to.
The streets were blooming, my mom told me, amidst the concert of laughter and toys, although there were also fights when someone broke someone else's toy.
Look, since there's no grass where I live, I'm leaving you a little biscuit, a cup of milk, I'll ask my dad for a little drink for you, and a small bottle of water for the camels. I don't know if you'll like it, but it's what I could think of.
When my mom was telling me that, her eyes welled up with tears. She said everything was so different when she was a child. They would play "trucano" and "Flor y convento" all day long, and then cards and parcheesi. She told me that by midday there wasn't a single complete set of jacks left, the dolls were all disheveled, and the elastic on the ping pong balls had about 15 knots in it by the afternoon.
She convinced me to write to them, but I wrote her letter to Santa instead, who brought me cologne. Seriously, cologne? I asked for my CD and my tablet! So I trust you, even though my friend Maite says the Three Kings don't exist. I believe my mom.
You can't imagine how excited she was when she told me how that day no one was supposed to get out of bed. That at six in the morning the running around and opening and closing of doors would begin, looking for the gifts you all had hidden. That sounded like fun.
It's not that I'm not excited now, but what Santa will bring you, that doesn't really exist, you know it in advance and you always find them under the little tree on Christmas Day, after Christmas Eve.
You know, it's nice to receive presents, and I really like what my mom told me. I wish I could go outside in the morning to play and share toys with my friends, but we have to be content with sticking out onto the balcony and showing them off from there. Maybe one of my friends will invite me over, but only for a little while and without making too much noise.
I wish Three Kings Day wouldn't pass by unnoticed. I wish that tradition my mother told me about would return. That's why I'm writing you this letter, like the children of old used to do. In fact, that's the last gift I ask for: if possible, that the streets would once again be filled with joy, just like in my mother's time.
With love,
Alejandra, a Dominican girl who still believes in you.
