First of all, I want to note that from an early age I love all Christmas holidays including New Year, Christmas, St. Nicholas Day. Once, when I was 5 years old, it was a cheerful Christmas Eve with me plunged in a fairy tale and waiting for miracles. I remember my parents leaving a trail of Santa, and when I woke up in the morning, I rejoiced in happiness, as if I had won millions!

My sister and brother live abroad and because of this we rarely saw each other. Traditionally, we celebrated Christmas with a big family. But it happened that I did not expect anyone. The day before the holiday we were told that the plane my sisters and brother were supposed to arrive on was canceled due to weather conditions. As soon as they told me this terrible news, I was upset and went home and closed myself in my room. I missed my family very much. Everyone understood that there was no going back and we should celebrate without my lovely folks.

Christmas came, a large family gathered at the table. Everyone was celebrating, changing, telling stories, but I was the only one sitting and sadly eating Olivier salad. Although my parents tried to lift my spirits with sweets, small gifts and jokes, it was all in vain. My Christmas was sad.

I went to the window and looked at the street, where the snow was falling fascinatedly. I looked up at the sky and said, “Please, let a miracle happen.”

The doorbell rang. Nobody understood who could come, because everyone was already at the table. Dad went to open the door, and I froze by the window. I did not believe in happiness. “Did the miracle happen?” I asked myself. And here at the door I saw my brothers and sister standing snowy and happy. Then there were many hugs, kisses and exchanges of gifts. My sister and brother gave me what I was afraid to dream of – a little kitten. My parents were happy that my family and I were on the seventh cloud!

It was then that I realized that miracles exist, you should just believe in them.