I’m a kid at heart, a fifty-two year old one. The idea of an elderly white haired man in a red velvet suit visiting my house to surprise me with a gift wrapped package or two still thrills me. I love the lights of the season, the innocence, and the smell of evergreens and apple cider.
Many years have passed since I sat on his lap to tell him what was hoping he’d bring me, but I still believe. I have no reason not to.