When I was a kid, I absolutely believed in Santa Claus. As much as a kid possibly could. So much so, in fact, that I wanted to BE Santa when I grew up. I believed in Santa a lot later than I probably should have - I was in 6th grade before I finally lost the spirit, and I think a lot of that has to do with my experience. I was probably 8 years old, and we were leaving the 11pm Christmas Eve service at our church in Lancaster, Ohio. I had been obsessively tracking Santa on the NORAD website all day, and was looking forward to getting home so I could crawl into bed and stay up as late as possible listening for sleigh bells or hooves on our roof, like I did every year. I was the first person out of the church when the service was over, because what little kid wants to stay in church on Christmas Eve? It was a clear, cold night, and the stars were gorgeous. So I was admiring the stars when I saw a kind of shimmering out of the corner of my eye. I looked, and saw what I can only describe as Santa’s sleigh. It looked just like it does in every movie. It was pulled by reindeer, and it left a trail of glowing glitter behind it that faded quickly. I don’t remember if I heard sleigh bells or not. It happened so fast, but I was absolutely SURE of what I saw. I kind of stood there in shock until my parents came out. I told them what I had seen, and they basically said “Well, we’d better get home and get to bed so he doesn’t skip our house.” Over the years, I kind of began to doubt my sighting. Chalked it up to a shooting star and wishful thinking. But as I’ve gotten older and become more open-minded about the nature of the universe and the paranormal, I’ve accepted my experience for what it was. It was Santa’s sleigh.