My dad had 3 strokes when I was 3. My mom went back to work, but they were having trouble making ends meet.

It was Christmas, and my mom made me a doll, my brother was getting a book from a garage sale, and for dinner mom splurged for Kraft mac&cheese.

On Christmas eve there was a phone call telling us someone was seen "lurking" around our yard, and it should be investigated. On the porch we found a basket with ham, green beans, corn, potatoes, yams, pumpkin pie, and apple pie for dinner. There were eggs, biscuits, milk, and bacon for breakfast too! In a small red bag there were gifts for my brother, mom, dad, and myself. Leading up to the porch there were boot prints, and "sleigh" marks in the snow.

This was 37 years ago, and I remember this as my best Christmas because we saw that Santa came to see us. We had the physical evidence from the boots, sleigh, and were told that Santa might not have our new address. To this day my mom still has no idea how santa found us that year. She still doesn't know who was the literal saint who gave us gifts, but also kept alive the the magic of the season for her children.

So to our special Santa (whoever you were) thank you!!!

P.s. Yes I teared up writing this.