So many of my wonderful Christmases were just alike that it’s hard to single out a special one.
For years, after breakfast, I proudly marched out the road to visit the relatives. I showed off my new doll and admired the gifts Santa had left my cousins. If I hung around the kitchen doors, my aunts gave me cookies or candy; it didn’t even require a hint.
It’s strange how the white world of a snow-filled sky seems to take color out of regular objects. I walked in whiteness, sometimes sticking my tongue out to capture snowflakes, hardly feeling the cold.
That Brownie camera was one of the best gifts ever and one I remember fondly to this day.