Christmas Miracle

Writing CLub challenge… to write a 500 words flash fiction on the theme of Christmas.

I decided to go with a true story for mine (well, more of an anecdote really!)

I don’t believe in miracles, and the idea of Christmas miracles always has me pooh-poohing into my latte. But… there is a tiny little corner of my cynical mind that does believe.

 A couple of decades ago, I landed a dream job. My five-year-old son and I moved a ten-hour drive away from home. Being in a new town and knowing nobody wasn’t quite the trial you might imagine, until a couple of months later.

Christmas was on the horizon, and I had shopped like a maniac for my son. I was gift wrapping, when a sudden thought struck me. If we were back home, my parents would have secretly taken my son to buy a gift for me. That year, I would have nothing under the tree. I felt a tiny pang, but I sternly reminded myself that Christmas was not about being given things.

That night, “Santa” piled up gifts for an over-excited boy who had taken forever to go to sleep. I gave a little sigh, reminding myself that next year, we would likely have friends who could be co-opted into helping my lad get a little something for me.

That Christmas morning, for some reason, my son wasn’t jumping up and down on my bed like a jack-in-a-box, begging me to come and see what Santa had brought. Perhaps it was because he had taken so long to go to sleep the night before, but I woke up first.

The house was eerily quiet. I walked into the living room and stopped dead. I literally thought I was dreaming for the surreal sight that met my eyes. No, it is not what you think, there were no extra presents under the tree, but there was something under the tree! I blinked, rubbed my eyes and blinked again, taking a moment to process what I was seeing. Sitting there peacefully amongst the gifts was a sweet little black and white cat, blinking at me.

“Hello!” I said in surprise and received a small friendly meow in reply. I didn’t want to scare the cat away, so I walked slowly and carefully over to the sofa and sat down. I patted my lap hopefully. The little cat sauntered over to me, climbed onto my lap and proceeded to purr to me for about an hour, whilst I stroked and scratched it, feeling disproportionately happy. When my son woke up, the cat casually meandered out of the house, and I never saw it again.

My love for cats is great, and for one to be inside my home, on the only Christmas my son wasn’t awake first to terrify it, exactly on Christmas day, to be waiting specifically under the Christmas tree, with the sole purpose of giving me a gift of purrs and cuddles on the only year that there was nothing under the tree for me…

It may hardly sound like a miracle at all, but the coincidence is great, don’t you think?

Next
Next

Tea with Lord Winterbottom