The best Christmas ever

“Get away from the windows and take you seats,” Mrs. Myrene called out. It had begun to snow outside, and it was the last day of school before Christmas holidays at Garfield grammar school. When we heard the school bell chime at 3:30 we raced from the classroom like wild children, thrilled at the accumulation of snow all around us. The school buses were waiting for our departure. The exhaust pipes from the school buses emitted cold grey smoke as they spitted and puffed from the dropping temperature. The world was being transformed before our eyes. Everyday objects turned from drab grey into silver magic; Jack Frost was at his work. Our toes were getting colder by the minute and our warm breath turned into puffs of icy mini clouds as the snow fell harder, covering everything in sight with glorious wonder. The school bus swung right at the only stoplight in town, taking us home for the two-week Christmas vacation. I looked out the window and thought about all the wonderful things our family would do during the holidays; Christmas plays at our church, special holiday food with family and friends, and decorating the Christmas tree while singing Christmas carols by daddy’s cracking fire in the fireplace. But this year would not be the same. Christmas was coming fast and for me, the Christmas spirit had not come into our small bungalow. There was no Christmas tree, no sweet smell of warm gingerbread and fruit cake, and my biggest concern was for our sweet mama who was expecting her 5th child during the Christmas season. Christmas wouldn’t be the same this year, I thought. On December 8, Christmas came to our house early. Mary Beth Smith was born, and we celebrated the sheer joy of Christ’s birth and our baby sister at the same time. It was the year of 1951, and the best Christmas ever!

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