I want to open my heart and share a personal story about an unexplained event from my childhood. I may come to regret it, but this thread got me in the spirit.
It was late at night one Christmas, when I was very young, less than 10, and I was upstairs. I believe my mother was upstairs too. Maybe I was hanging out with her? I can't remember. It was a very long time ago. I just know that the rest of the family wasn't around for that year.
I heard a noise downstairs, and I rushed down to see what it was, but as I start running downstairs, there's this very strange bug, like a beetle, right in the middle of the stairs, so I stop and get scared. I can't remember exactly what happened next. I think I ran back upstairs to my mum, and then she went downstairs. I do remember that while on the staircase, I hear a jingle. I turn to look and I see a glimpse of something red exiting through the sliding back door to the backyard. My mum chases after... him? But whatever it is, she claims it's gone. And there's a present underneath the tree that wasn't there before (it was exactly what I had asked for that year. One of those crappy kids blender/ice cream maker things).
I always wondered what had happened that night. I never wanted to ask because I wanted to keep the magic alive, so to speak. But years later, as an adult, I did ask my mum who that was and what happened, but she said she doesn't remember. That I should've asked years before and she would've been able to tell me.
Now, it couldn't have been my dad. He was overseas working. We had a call with him earlier that night.
There was an event in my neighbourhood earlier in the month where all the kids gathered around and a guy dressed as Santa handed out presents. This Santa Claus was black, so I never bought that it was
really him. But I always thought that this person and what happened that night were somehow related.
A black person breaking into your house to put stuff in? You ask incredulously
Stranger things have happened, I say.
Here's another more recent story. What inspired me to write this. Happened today in fact.
I bought this pack of mini candy cane flavoured Kit Kats so I could put into two stockings. The bag clearly says that it contains 18 mini Kit Kats.
Perfect, I think. I can split them evenly between the two. I don't want any for me.
So start counting to split them into two piles.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9... that's one. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9...10?
10? God, is my maths that bad now? Does 9+9 not equal 18?
No, it does. I count every KitKat again, all together. Thinking I just miscounted. Nope. There's 19 in that pack. An extra one for me?
I have been very very worried about something this past week. It's on a level of worry that I had never felt before in my life. It makes me worry so much that it has brought my whole mood down and made me a more sombre person, it has made me unable to relax.
And yet, that was the third time today (I won't say the other two) where it felt like somebody out there was throwing me a bone. That one Kit Kat touched my heart and made me feel more of the holiday spirit than I had felt for years. Almost brought a smile to my face and a tear to my eye.
I hope all of you have a very merry Christmas, and that things work out for all of us
