Love in Wartime

LOVE IN WARTIME

I was three. Christmas in England, 1945: no toys, no candy, no
trimmings, no tree. But in the morning by the kitchen range, a strange
shape wrapped in a linen tablecloth, smelling of lavender. Wonderful to
feel, amazing to uncover with small, clumsy hands, a horse made out of
scraps of wood, its mane of braided darning wool, with hand carved
wheels and a padded patchwork seat. My hard pressed parents' miracle of
love, the most beautiful present that I was ever given. Still my
fondest memory of Christmas.

? LINDY MCNAUGHTON JORDAN, 2002 (89 words)