The ghost of Christmas past

I didn't know when I was a child that we were very poor. We were always a very close and connected family, and it was our pleasure to make or do things for one another. We had some awesome Christmases, all on very little money.

I remember that Mama and Daddy always said Santa brought the Christmas tree. We'd get up on Christmas morning and there it'd be in all it's glory. A bushy cedar tree covered with fat lights and tinsel, the foundation of brightly wrapped gifts in place. It was a glorious thing to behold upon rising in the morning that day. Mama fixed us breakfast as we opened gifts. We waded across the strewn paper and ribbons like it was a gold mine. Mama would save any of the good paper and ribbons to reuse the next year, though she was pretty sneaky about that and we never noticed she was storing that stuff away.

Many of our gifts were handmade by us for each other, so we worked like so many Christmas Elves, keeping the secrets and working off to ourselves in private moments. No one wanted to reveal what they were making for the others. One year, my older sister made a whole wardrobe of clothes for a walking doll Mama had picked up somewhere. In the bathroom late at night, after I was sound asleep, she'd stitch away by hand. She made the doll a bride's dress complete with veil, plus a couple of other outfits. She even made undergarments for the doll. Needless to say, I was beyond thrilled and played with the doll incessantly until it and the clothes finally were worn out.

I didn't know till years later that Sis had put that work into the garments and had sewn every single one by hand. Many of our Christmases were like that, though, and I treasure the memory of them all.