TenderStruggle
New member
When I think about my grandmother's stories, it's a mix of amazement and a reminder that some things in life just can't be explained easily. She wasn’t one to dramatize, but the way she described these glowing orbs left no doubt about their impact on her. The first time it happened, she was just a girl, playing as usual when this fiery ball suddenly popped out of the telephone, can you imagine? It danced around the room before shooting up the chimney like it had somewhere to be. Then years later, a similar thing happened again in her thirties; only this time, it was like it decided to make a more dramatic exit by breaking the window on its way out. She used to say it moved almost as if it was alive—a thought that's lingered with me, adding another layer of wonder to memories that are already so vivid and tenderly held close.