1st Day of Christmas Memories

The first Christmas I have memories of was Christmas of 1983, when I was 4 years old. At that time, we lived in Lakewood Colorado; Lakewood is on the southern outskirts of Denver. We lived there for 4 years, and I remember loving the wintertime there because of the snow. Two of the winters we lived there, the snow was multiple feet deep, and I loved building snow tunnels in the yard with my brothers! I also loved looking out my window at bedtime in the winter, because there was a streetlamp across the street and when it snowed, the falling snowflakes appearing under that light looked like dancers on a stage under the spotlight. It was always a beautiful and mesmerizing sight to behold!

Several days before Christmas that year, my little sister Tawna became very ill. She was only 22 months old. Whenever she breathed, her chest caved in. My parents took her to the hospital, and she was diagnosed with Croupe with Strider and was hospitalized at the Fitzsimmons Medical Center which was located on the army base in Aurora (on the northern outskirts of Denver). My littlest sister Tabbi was only 3 months old at that time, and my mom was nursing her, so my mom stayed home with the baby, me, and my two older brothers each day. Once a day, her and my dad went to visit Tawna in the evening for just a short time in the hospital, so she could return home to feed Tabbi. It was a very cold winter, and the temperatures were below zero every single day, so they didn't want to take the baby out in the cold with them to the hospital. We only had one vehicle, an orange Volkswagen bus, and it was having difficulties starting due to the extreme cold, so it became necessary to borrow a neighbor's car to make the daily trip to the hospital.

On Christmas Eve, we all went together as a family to go visit Tawna in the hospital. I remember walking in the hospital, and going to visit her in her room. She was sitting on a hospital crib inside a giant plastic tent, holding a blankie. She looked so weird to me being inside that plastic tent. I didn't know how to act, or what to say, or what to do. I didn't like being in the hospital, and I wanted to go home. I don't remember how long we visited, but it wasn't longer than an hour or two.

On Christmas morning, Santa came to our home and we got to play with the gifts that he brought. I got a play cook-stove from him that year, and I loved playing with it. But we were forbidden to open any of the other presents under the tree until Tawna came home from the hospital. My dad explained to all of us in a family meeting on Christmas Eve that we would wait for Tawna to be released from the hospital to celebrate Christmas, so that she could be a part of it, too. I remember crying because I had to wait to see what awaited me inside the wrapped gifts! Thankfully, two days after Christmas, Tawna was released from the hospital, and we got to all be together to open the remaining gifts.

That Christmas felt different; instead of being full of happiness, I felt a lot of sadness. As a 4-year-old, it was difficult to comprehend everything that was happening. I was sad that my sister was sick, I was sad that she had to be alone in a plastic tent, I was sad that I had to wait to open presents, and I was sad that we couldn't all be together on Christmas Day.