We got to their little student apartment and man oh man, the small one bedroom apartment was light-years
Goes to show how foolish an young I was, huh? Because after my sisters and I fell asleep in three little sleeping bags on the living room floor of that warm, clean, magical Christmas apartment with the tree's lights twinkling over our faces, our mother baked , built, iced and decorated the most beautiful gingerbread house I have ever seen in my life. We didn't know mom had done it until years later. No. We were sure Santa had come, found us in our temporary lodgings and left something extra-special to make our Christmas the best ever. At around three or four in the morning, Wendy, Nicole and I woke. We saw the gingerbread house. Far too excited to go back to sleep, we lay in our sleeping bags through the rest of the night, whispering about how Santa found us and how clever he was.
My sister Wendy was thirteen or fourteen that year. She knew very well the truth about Santa, and what role parents play as Santa's helpers. But for me, her baby sister, she kept the magic alive for one final, perfect holiday. Thank you sis. I love you, and miss you and mom both. Muah.