Favorite Christmas Eve Memory – Robin Bayne
“Mom-Mom, I hear him,” I whispered, sitting up slightly in bed. With the covers sliding off, I leaned toward the other twin bed where my grandmother slept on holidays, or tried to, during my all night vigils watching for Santa. “I hear something on the roof.” She tried to be patient with me, as grandmothers do. I was no more than five at the time, but the memories of that dark night have never faded. I had been good all year, and had faith that Santa knew that. As an adult, I put that faith in God.
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