As I FINALLY got around to putting Christmas decorations away, I came across some of my favorite items. Letters to Santa by a little girl and little boy whom I've never met, never seen, and never known.

I found them the summer we moved into our first house. They were buried deep in a hall closet, underneath some worn contact paper, yellowed, frayed, and perfectly folded. The envelope read, 'Santa, North Pole' in elegant cursive handwriting. Old penmanship paper was used and the letters to Santa were written with the utmost care and diligence.Siblings, Joan and Dennis penned their letters to Santa wanting a new etch-a-sketch and a new football.

I wish I could find Dennis and Joan and mail them their letters.When we were selling the house, our real estate agent said a previous owner came by during an open house to see it. However, he or she didn't sign in. There was only one previous owner to our old house and they raised their two children there. I was convinced it was either Joan or Dennis and I was so disappointed they didn't leave their name or number. What was my master plan? Race down the street shouting,"I have your old letters to Santa! Do you want them? If you didn't get that new etch-a-sketch, I probably know why!!!"

Weirdo.

Regardless, they remind me of the innocence, the excitement, the simplicity of the season. They help put a smile on my face when I've been listening to Christmas music since Halloween and I don't want to move a stupid elf around the house. I hope someday I can find Dennis and Joan and return the letters to their rightful owners. Until then, they are safe in their little ziploc bag, on a shelf, in a closet.