deliberately," he said, "and besides, he knew you were
here. I made sure he knew, for I sat down and wrote
him one very long letter, and gave him our address, and I made out a list of things we wanted that was
three feet long."
How funny, I thought. For the list of what all four
of us wanted was so short and simple. We wanted
outside. We wanted our freedom.
I sat up in bed and looked around, and felt a soursweet lump in my throat. Momma had tried, oh, yes.
She'd tried, done her best from the way it looked. She
did love us, she did care. Why, it must have taken her
months to buy all of this.
I was ashamed and full of contrition for
everything mean and ugly I'd thought. That's what
came from wanting everything, and at once, and
having no patience, and no faith.
Chris turned to look at me questioningly. "Aren't
you ever gonna get up? Gonna sit there the whole day
through--you don't like gifts anymore?"
While Cory and Carrie tore off gift wrappings,
Chris came over to me and stretched out his hand.
"Come, Cathy, enjoy the only Christmas you'll have
in your twelfth year. Make this a unique Christmas,
different from any we will experience in the future."
His blue eyes pleaded.
He was wearing rumpled red pajamas piped in
white, and his gold hair fluffed out wildly. I was wearing a red nightgown made of fleece, and my long hair was far more disheveled than his. Into his warm hand I put my own, and I laughed. Christmas was Christmas, no matter where you were, and whatever the circumstances, it was still a day to enjoy. We opened everything wrapped, and we tried on our new clothes while stuffing candy into our mouths before breakfast. And "Santa" had left a note telling us to hide the candy from a certain "you-know-who." After all, candy still caused cavities. Even on Christmas
Day.
I sat on the floor wearing a stunning new robe of
green velvet. Chris had a new robe of red flannel to
match his pajamas. I dressed the twins in their new