Faith & Values · A Decembers list
The moment you couldn't explain, and never quite let go of
You were standing in the kitchen, or halfway up the stairs, and something happened that the rest of your life has no category for. You've turned it over a hundred times since.
This is the list for those moments. One line to start — where you were, what you felt — and the rest tends to come back on its own.
Free to start. Private from the first word.
Where this list lives
This is a list in Decembers — the place a life gets written down one question at a time.
Decembers asks the questions no one thought to ask, keeps the answers in one permanent Chronicle, and holds them on one Timeline that reads in order. You answer. Decembers does the writing.
- Lists
- A list for every kind of life, and every turn one takes. Pick one and start answering.
- Timeline
- Your answers arrange themselves in order. Seeing a whole life laid out this way is something else.
- Inner Circle
- Not social media. The few people you name are the only ones it is ever shared with.
Begin with one list. The rest follows.
One line is enough
Write down the cold spot on the stairs and you're back in that house — the wallpaper, the hour, the way your arms went to gooseflesh before your mind caught up.
These are the experiences no record keeps. There's no certificate for the night you woke knowing, no photograph of the voice you heard when the house was empty. Family stories flatten them into anecdotes — "oh, she always had a feeling about things" — and the strangeness gets sanded off. But you were there. You know exactly how the air felt and exactly what you thought first, and that detail is the whole thing.
A book of this would never get written; it feels too large and too odd to sit down and explain. A list asks less. One line — the year, the room, the first feeling — and it holds a place for the rest. You can add the detail that still gives you chills later, or the theory you've never said out loud, or the time you told someone and watched their face change. One at a time is how these get down at all.
How it works
- 01
Pick this list
It’s waiting, already written. There is no blank page to face.
- 02
Fill in what comes
A year, a line, a photograph. Five minutes or an hour.
- 03
Invite who was there
They add what you forgot. You decide what stays.
- 04
Share it, or don’t
One quiet page for your Inner Circle. No link, no feed.
The kinds of moments that land here
The knowing before the news
You woke, or stopped mid-sentence, or felt the bottom drop out for no reason — and then the call came. These are the ones that scared you most in hindsight, because the feeling arrived before there was any way to know. Write down the hour and what you were doing right before.
The presence in an empty room
A smell that belonged to someone gone. A weight on the end of the bed. A figure at the edge of the hall that wasn't there when you looked straight on. You've probably explained it away a dozen times and never quite believed your own explanation.
The thing you've never told straight
Some of these you tried to share once, got a look, and put away for good. Others you've never said aloud to anyone. Here the point isn't to convince — it's to set it down exactly as it happened, before the edges wear smooth.
By what kind of experience it was
- A premonition
- The dream, the sudden dread, the certainty about someone far away — the ones where the feeling came before the facts caught up.
- A visitation
- The sense that someone who had died was near — a scent, a touch, a word, often in a room where you were alone.
- An apparition
- Something seen: a figure, a light, a face in a window or doorway that didn't behave the way people do.
- A haunting
- The house or place itself — cold spots, footsteps overhead, doors, the feeling of never being quite alone there.
- A reading
- The medium, the fortune teller, the palm reader who said the one thing they couldn't have known.
- Still no name for it
- The experiences that fit no category at all — the ones you can only describe by telling the whole story.
Other lists you may like
Start with any one of them. Every answer lands on the same Timeline.
Begin
A record of the moments your life never found room to explain
They don't need proof and they don't need a tidy ending. Start with one — the year, the room, and the first thing you felt.