Last year we slept over at The Fella’s sister’s home on Christmas Eve, tucked away on the comfy sleep sofa in their game room. Sometime in the scant hours between the adults’ late-night bedtime and our niece’s morning wake-up, I was roused from sleep by a faint but distinct noise overhead.
I swear to you this is all true and accurately reported.
It was an odd whooshing sound with a mechanical CLANK undertone. Barely awake and disoriented from the unfamiliar location, I briefly persuaded myself it might be coming from the street, not the roof, and I thought “Huh, street sweeper?” Then I woke enough to realize no one would be sweeping the streets in the wee hours of Christmas Day. And that sound was definitely coming from above us.
Then I really woke up and started listening intently, trying to figure out what on earth I was hearing.
I’ll tell you what it sounded like. It sounded like a gusting, whooshing, swirly sound with a gear-shifting background.
It sounded like the TARDIS.
I laid there listening to it and I started thinking. Well, that would explain a lot, right? It would explain how Santa manages to slip in and out of places undetected. It explains how he can be everywhere, all over the globe, Christmas after Christmas, spanning centuries. It explains his seemingly unmotivated altruism. It explains why he looks different at different times.
I’m not saying I heard Santa. I don’t know what I heard. But I’m saying IT WOULD EXPLAIN A LOT.
[This absolutely true story is also cross-posted to Metafilter.]