Letters to Santa

Snow fell softly outside, covering the street in a quiet blanket of white. The world beyond the window glowed with the shimmer of fairy lights, but inside, everything felt even warmer. The fireplace crackled gently, casting golden light across the living room where three figures huddled together at the table.

“Don’t forget to tell him you’ve been good,” said the father, smiling over his cup of cocoa.

“I have!” protested Emma, the youngest, her pencil poised above a half-finished letter. Her handwriting was careful and uneven, each word shaped with deep concentration. “I just don’t know if he’ll remember what I asked for last year.”

Her mother leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “He remembers everything,” she said softly. “But it’s always nice to write again. That’s how the magic knows where to find you.”

Emma nodded with gravity and returned to her task. The only sounds were the scratching of her pencil, the fire’s soft pop, and a faint melody of carols playing in the background.

On the sideboard, a candle burned gently, its flame steady. Its scent drifted into the room—a warm, intoxicating aroma that felt like stepping into a winter evening wrapped in softness. Fruity, sweet, and spicy, it carried the comfort of mulled wine shared with loved ones. Christmas Cheer. It folded itself into the moment, as natural as the glow of the fire.

When Emma finally finished her letter, she folded it neatly and sealed it with a red star sticker. “Done!” she chirped, holding it up proudly. Her parents applauded, laughing.

Her father lifted her into his lap. “So,” he asked, “what did you ask for this time?”

Emma’s smile widened. “A snow globe,” she whispered. “But not just any—one that never stops snowing.”

Her parents exchanged a glance—one of those quiet, knowing looks that carried years of shared stories. Moments like this, small and perfect, were the ones they cherished most.

As the evening settled into a soft hush, they stayed by the fire a little longer, cocoa mugs empty now, the candle still glowing warmly. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky.

And in that stillness—surrounded by flickering light, the sweet-spiced air of Christmas Cheer, and a little girl’s hopeful letter—it felt impossible not to believe that magic was real.