La Befana - Italian

My little house is usually the coziest, quietest place you can imagine, filled with the scent of woodsmoke and cinnamon. I am La Befana, and I have always believed that a clean house is a happy house, so my broom is my best friend. But one starry night long ago, everything changed, and it all started with a knock on my door, leading to the story of La Befana. Three kings, dressed in sparkling jewels and rich velvet, stood on my doorstep. They told me they were following a bright star to find a very special baby, a newborn king. They looked very grand and important, and their camels, waiting patiently outside, were decorated with colorful tassels. “Will you come with us?” they asked. “You could bring a gift for the child.” But oh, my floors needed sweeping and there was dust on the mantle. I told them I was much too busy and sent them on their way, promising I would follow when my chores were done.

After the kings left, the house felt too quiet. The starlight streaming through my window seemed to be calling to me, whispering about the adventure I was missing. I looked at my broom, then at the basket of toys and sweets I kept by the fire for visiting children. Suddenly, I knew I had made a big mistake. My house could wait, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime journey. I wanted to see that special child, too. I quickly filled my basket with all the best treats, like honey cakes and hand-carved wooden toys, grabbed my warmest shawl, and hurried out the door. I hopped on my broom and flew into the cold night air, following the path the Wise Men had taken. I soared over sleepy towns and dark forests, my heart thumping with excitement and hope. I searched the sky for their guiding star, but it had vanished. The kings were nowhere to be seen. I called out, but only the wind answered. I was all alone, with a basket full of gifts and no one to give them to.

My heart was sad for a moment, but then I had a wonderful idea. As I flew over a small village, I saw the chimneys of all the houses where children were sleeping peacefully in their beds. I thought, 'I may not find that one special baby tonight, but I can bring a little joy to every child.' So, on the eve of the Epiphany, January 5th, my new journey began. I started sliding down chimneys, leaving gifts and candies in the stockings of good boys and girls. For those who were a little naughty, I left a lump of black coal made of sugar, as a gentle reminder to be kind. For hundreds of years, I have continued my flight. My story, passed down through generations in Italy, reminds everyone that it’s never too late to do a good deed and that kindness is the greatest gift of all. And so, every year, I fly on my broom, still searching, still sharing, and keeping the magic of giving alive in the hearts of children everywhere.