A Christmas Remembered

They were nine and seven year old sisters. There had been a change in their circumstances but being so young, they didn't fully understand why they weren't going to live as a family in their own home any more. Grannie and Grampa were kind and Mum always did all the talking. Children were to be seen and not heard.

There was an older sister, a small brother and several aunts in the house. The little one spent a lot of time at the window each day, forehead leaning against the glass, face stained with tears as he watched his mother leave for work and waited for her to come back.

The girls still went to the same school but it was further away. Every morning Grannie left two pennies on the table to take the bus. The nine year old took charge of the money and they walked to school together. The money was saved though and that first Christmas, they had an entirely new experience.

Christmas Eve was a Saturday and it was dark and raining. Cobblestone streets were narrow, and lights from shops bounced and danced like raindrops on the wet pavement. In Scotland, rain and gloom dominate winter months and sometimes summer too. There was a pressing need for creature comforts, like a cheerful fire and good food. A chronic lack of sunshine creates a universal craving for sweet things.

There were Sweetie shops galore. M&Ms and Birrel's chain stores sold nothing else. Ice Cream Cafes were a delight. Variety was endless. Cream toffee in slabs had to be broken up with a small hammer, tablet was cut in squares and weighed in a shovel shaped receptacle on an avoirdupois scale.

On the walls behind the counter, tall glass jars filled with candy of every colour, shape and taste with hard and soft centres, lined the shelves. Caramels in a variety of flavours and brazil nuts encased in butter brittle were a mouth-watering attraction. Sticks of rock and lollipops came in a vast selection of shapes and facsimiles. Dates, ginger, jellies, and butter creams dipped in dark or light chocolate were displayed in rows in the long glass case that formed the counter.

For Christmas, the stores had fancy little cardboard boxes with carrying ribbons which held as little as two ounces. The excitement of choosing for this Aunt and that, for older sister and little brother was intense. Mum's favourites were Turkish Delight, chocolate covered ginger and dates.

For Grannie, they bought a cheese dish in the shape of a thatched cottage with climbing roses. There was no figuring going on and finally there was only fourpence -halfpenny left and Grampa's present was still not bought. In a newsagent and tobacconist shop window, pen knives clad in enamelled tartan were displayed on a card for sixpence each. Grampa cut his own tobacco. It was the perfect gift but there wasn't enough money left.

While they were gazing in the shop window, Aunt Peggy came by. There were six children in her house all younger than the sisters. The oldest was often sent to Grannie's house for a small loan for rent or some other essential. But the sisters knew nothing of that. All of their lives, Aunt Peggy had always lived next door to their former home. She shared everything .When she stopped to talk, they told her how much money they needed to buy the present for Grampa and she gave it to them.

They raced home laden with the bundles of small packages. Everyone was in the sitting room, the room with a cheerful fire burning. The sisters couldn't wait for Christmas Day. They immediately handed out the presents. There was surprise and delight all around.

Then it was over and time for the sisters to hang their stockings and go to bed.

But the stockings had disappeared. The search became desperate. Finally, they were made to understand, the stockings were not to be hung because there was to be no Christmas for them . Their circumstances had changed.

Waking up on Christmas morning each found at her side, a paper bag holding an orange, a bar of toffee and a penny.... from Grannie. Christmas stockings had never held much more. An apple and orange in the foot..a little white sugar pig with pink eyes and a teeny tail of pink yarn. A few chocolates in cellophane wrapping that crackled, sometimes a pomegranate, and a doll half in and half out of the stocking as it hung from the mantle where Santa had left it.

Christmases that followed had presents but the memory of that one would never be undone. It would haunt every Christmas thereafter.

In life, there are no guarantees because stuff happens and constant bliss is not much of a character builder. But when there are small children in the house, it is well to remember, a child's memory is a parent's legacy. It's the only one that matters Whatever creates a record of absolute clarity at a particular moment in time, is not itself clear... But there's a lesson to be learned and it is not about things.

Children should be able to trust that love given is love received.