The hectic sounds of the television, the clattering of my father washing dishes and the general noisiness of the house overwhelmed me. Scrunching the rosary in my hand, I fled outdoors. No jacket, no shoes, just me and the quiet night. I sat down on the door-stoop and continued praying. My mind returned to the rhythmic prayers, the mysteries of Christ. Some noise from the street echoed over me- then the distant and soft sound of Christmas carols. It sounded like people singing very far away. Perhaps I was hallucinating but no, I distinctly heard the melody: “Noel, Noel..”
In a hurry, I rose up and bolted into the front yard. Yes, there was music! I ran towards the source in a fury, bare feet pounded the pavement (ouch). Coming to the street, I paused and caught my breath. My ears stretched to locate the noise. It was gone. Completely gone. I walked to and fro in an attempt to pick up the sound, any sound. But it had vanished quickly as it come, like a specter in the night. Sadness flooded my heart as I sulked back towards the house. Blue stars twinkled overhead. I imagined the Magi who wandered in search of light. Was I looking for what they were looking for? I had taken off into the night, my soul aching for something extraordinary, for something miraculous, for Christmas.