My Favorite Childhood Christmas Memory

For most 10 year old children, their first Christmas in America should be their most favorite childhood memory! As for me, my second Christmas in America was my favorite. Let me tell you why.

Just before our second Christmas, my parents bought a new cozy home. The home had two bedrooms and one bath. Everything seemed huge, well, except for the bathroom. It was a mansion in comparison to the home we lived in Saigon, Vietnam. The bathroom became a little snug after a few weeks for a family of 8. There were six children ranging from the ages of 6 to 12 and two adults. You can imagine the constant fights and arguments between the siblings over the bathroom. However, we still loved our home because it was ours.

Being new immigrants and knowing very minimal English, my parents took job positions as a cook and a dishwasher. They worked very hard for very minimal pay. My parents were Buddhists. They didn't celebrate Christmas. My aunts and uncles pitched in and gave us a small Christmas tree for Christmas. It was beautiful. We decorated the tree with some tinsels and ornaments. There were no presents under the tree. I was old enough to understand the concept of no Santa Claus.

One morning two days before Christmas, I opened the front screen door to our beloved house. I found a large basket full of fruits on our front door steps. There was no note attached. "Who was this for?" I thought. Was it delivered to the right house? I looked around curiously for a person to step out of hiding announcing that the gift basket belonged to him/her. No such luck. I told my mom about the basket. After no one claimed the basket for several hours, we accepted it as a gift from a nearby church.

On December 24, I pondered the fruit basket. If an anonymous person gave a gift with no strings attached, perhaps I could make presents for my sisters and brothers and surprise them. I did not have any money to buy toys. I quickly looked around the house and collected all of my little trinkets and stickers that I had won from the school's activities. I wrapped each toy in newspapers for each of the siblings including myself. I tagged everyone's names and pretended it was from Santa Claus.

On Christmas day, we had presents under the Christmas tree. Everyone opened their little presents and loved them. The presents were simple. We lived simple and modest in a cozy home. It was fun and I felt great.

Looking back as an adult, the fruit basket from my second Christmas in America was imprinted into my life forever. It was the unconditional gift of Christmas. Those precious moments of childhood Christmas memories reinforced what Christmas means to me.