Editor’s note: Maureen Golden wrote this letter to her nephew Sean Golden of Bristol when he decided there is no Santa Claus. She shared it with us so we could pass it on to our readers. As I lay in bed under my Dad’s wool coat on a frigid December night I dream about Christmas. The large spruce tree in our front yard stood several stories high decorated with big bright blue holiday lights shining through the small crack of my window curtains. I would often kneel in front of my bedroom window and stare at … (read more)
