Journaling reads: When I was five years old my mother was gone for Christmas. That year I had the chicken pox. I woke up very early in the morning sick and throwing up. My dad got up and got me a nice bath. Then as I couldn’t sleep he let me open up my stocking. I don’t recall what was in my stocking that year, but it meant a lot to me that I was able to play with whatever it was. I have remembered this special Christmas for twenty-six years now. How special it was to have some time alone with my dad Christmas morning while my brothers and sister slept.

Credits:
A Gift of Gold by Michelle Pieters
Font: Shruti