A Little Miracle
At Christmas, there was a parade around the housing complex. It passed the street in front of our house, and I watched it through the window. Mom and dad got my sister and I into bed. We needed to be asleep before Santa came. If he saw us awake, he would skip our house.
I climbed into bed, too nervous to sleep, but kept my eyes tightly closed. I had some suspicion about Santa’s identity, but wasn’t taking any chances.
And then there was a sound in the living room. Jingle bells? I held my breath.
Mom and dad called us out of our room. My sister woke up, and rubbed her eyes. I was afraid to get up, afraid to ruin Christmas. Mom called us out again.
My sister ran out, and squealed. I, very carefully, peeked around the corner.
Right there, on our couch, sat Santa, with my sister already ensconced in his lap. He winked at me, and waved me over. He gave us Candy Canes, and promised he’d bring presents after we were asleep. I understood that he was a guy in a costume. I knew he was the parade Santa. I also knew he couldn’t visit everyone. For some reason, he’d paid my sister and me a personal visit. Out of everyone. That was a little miracle.