It was the first white Christmas in years.  The children helped carry the Christmas tree

from the garden centre.  Angela, who was ten, unraveled the lights and the two other

children put the decorations on the tree.  Gwen was twelve, and had a better reach. Their

mother stood on a chair to finish the decorations, stretching to place the angel on top.

David, who was eight, put the little red bows and tinsel on the lower branches.  He

couldn’t wait for Santa. He was a true believer.  The excitement was contagious as

Christmas songs played from the radio in the background.

Margaret was separated from her husband.   Their father, Jim, had moved to England.

He had arranged for someone to bring presents home to Dublin for the children. With

all the shopping done by Christmas Eve, Margaret and her children braved the snow and

cold and headed for the train.  They skidded along the paths where the slush was turning

to ice. Not being familiar with the area, Margaret had to ask for directions. Eventually

they found the house.  Margaret took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. A light came

on in the hall.  A lady opened the door and frowned when she saw them.  “Can I help

you” she said.  Margaret explained why they had called.  “There’s no presents here!” she

said with a scowl, and promptly closed the door.  By the light of the street lamp,

Margaret looked again at her husband’s letter. Yes, they were at the right address. Her

heart sank.  The children looked at her, disappointed and downhearted.  “There’s

obviously some mix-up”, she said.  “‘I know what we’ll do.  We’ll get some chips and

warm ourselves up before getting the train home”.  David was happy with the thought of

a treat but the girls could not be so easily cheered up.

When they reached their destination, people poured from the station laden with

Christmas shopping.  The snow, now grey and slushy, was piled against the curb.  Buses

and taxis were lined up outside.  Breaths almost froze in the cold night air. The trees

along the street sparkled with white fairy lights.  Decorations on Main Street welcomed

the festive season.  An old man sat huddled in the doorstep of a shop, now closed. How

would he possibly keep warm on this cold night?

The children were now asleep and the house quiet.  Biscuits and a drink had been left by

the fireplace for Santa. Margaret prepared the last of the food for the Christmas dinner.

The trifle was placed in the fridge.  The Christmas pudding was left on the worktop,

ready to be heated once the dinner was served.  The vegetables had been prepared, and

the turkey stuffed, left in the fridge ready to be cooked on Christmas morning, before

they all went to church.   Margaret took the presents out from their hiding places and

wrapped them up, placing them under the tree.  The old Christmas stockings with the

children’s names on them, almost faded now, were placed by the fireplace.  It was well

past midnight.

The two girls were up with the lark and ran into their mother’s room on Christmas

morning. Margaret couldn’t believe it was morning already. “Happy Christmas mum”

they said in unison. “Happy Christmas girls” she replied, slipping out of bed and

throwing on her dressing gown. It only seemed like an hour since her head hit the

pillow. David was hot on their heels. The children headed straight for the front room,

while Margaret went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She put on a CD of Christmas

carols and joined them. Gwen was handing the presents out from beneath the tree.

Wrapping paper flittered the floor. “This is your’s mum, from all of us” Gwen said. “Ah,

thank you everyone. You really shouldn’t have” but couldn’t wait to see what was inside

the shiny red wrapping paper. She gave each one a big hug and kiss. To her surprise,

she found a beautiful marcasite watch. She had lost one years ago. It had been a 21st

birthday present. The children stared at her to see what her reaction would be. “I can’t

believe you remembered!” she said, full of emotion. “You deserve it mum” Gwen said.

As the children continued to open their presents, their smiles and screeches drowned

out the Christmas songs in the background. Their dog sat in the middle of the chaos,

looking from one to the other. The leggo lay on the floor, waiting to be opened. A train

set, Barbie dolls, jigsaw puzzles, some books and crayons, and a Walkman for Gwen. The

hats and scarves for the cold weather were left to one side! What a joy it was to see the

excitement, and how glad Margaret was that she had bought presents as she could

afford them, since November. She had also found a few extra presents hidden away in

the wardrobe on Christmas Eve.

She left the children to play in the front room and started to stuff the turkey. Her

parents were coming over to join them for dinner after church. Margaret was humming

to “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby, getting the potatoes ready for roasting. Gwen

arrived into the kitchen laden with wrapping paper for the bin. “Mum, can I help?” she

asked. “You can set the table Gwen, so all is ready when we come back from church”.

Margaret had all their best clothes laid out for them.

The grandparents arrived, with more presents for the children and hugs all round.

Finally they arrived to a packed church. They had to go up to the balcony. The crib had

been placed at the front of the alter this year. At the end of the service, the choir sang

“Oh Holy Night”. The congregation had joined in the other hymns, but for this one,

there was a hush. The beautiful voice of the Soprano filled Margaret with emotion. She

felt a wave of sadness, but checked herself. “This day is for my children” she though. As

they left the church, as if on cue, a fresh downfall of snow fell on the heads and

shoulders of families heading home. It was magical to watch the delight of the children.

When they opened their front door, they could smell the turkey roasting in the oven.

It was warm and snug inside as coats were discarded and they all finally sat around the

table. The red napkins and sprigs of holly that Gwen had placed around the Christmas

table made it all very special. How grateful Margaret was, as she looked at all the happy

faces, that they had survived to another Christmas.