In which I confess a fib, and tell the truth to the best of my ability

Back a few days ago, in that Christmassy, roly-poly poll thing, I answered that I've never stopped believing in Santa Claus. That was just a teeny bit of a lie. Like many kids, I stopped believing in the singular, and singularly magical, person named "Santa Claus" eventually (I don't remember exactly when; I might have held onto my belief a little longer than some).

However, it was not a complete lie, because when I was at the ripe old, and almost cynical, age of twenty-three, something happened that made me a believer all over again.

( Click here for the Yuletide fable, of sorts )