The TV weatherman had predicted a snowstorm, but Cecil and his grandson savored a clear night outside. A Christmas miracle? Perhaps, but only if you set the bar low, or appreciated the little things.
“What’s that?’ Timmy enquired indicating a pulsing purple orb.
Cecil chuckled “Haven’t you been listening to my stories? Must be the star of Bethlehem.”
“Umm, is it getting bigger?”
Cecil frowned, the orb now had a streaky tail and was hurtling downwards at top speed.
“Timmy, inside now.” Grandpa ordered trying his darndest to forget another story which had just come to mind. One about dinosaurs.
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