Christmas in 1981

[Note: Rosa wrote this up for one of her friends the other day and I thought it would be fun to share.]

I came to America from Cambodia in early January of 1981. 

Everything was so new to me, the people, the land, the homes, the cars, and so much more.

Our family didn’t have much then except for the clothes on our backs.  We came as refugees to live freely in America from our worn torn country.

So many holidays to celebrate and I had never celebrated any or knew of any at all.  I was about 7 years old.

We lived in Tacoma Washington when we first came to America.  There were 7 of us kids and the youngest brother was born in America and of course mom and dad didn’t speak any English at all then. 

That first Christmas in 1981 we received a dinky Charlie brown type Christmas tree from someone we didn’t know because our family was poor and could not afford one.  It was the most beautiful tree to me with lots of roomy branches to hang paper angels that I learned to color and cut out at school and then we hung some popcorn strung together.  There were no presents under the tree and Christmas time grew nearer and nearer.

Then about a week before Christmas a wonderful couple from Church brought us beautiful gifts for each of the family members.  There were 10 gorgeously wrapped gifts with each of our names on them.  I had one that had a beautiful bow and colorful wrapping of Santa Clause, snow falling around him.  I could hardly wait to open my present.  Everyday seemed like forever. I wanted to rip that present open but I knew I had to wait and so I did sadly.  The day came finally and it was Christmas morning.  Everyone opened their gifts and they were so happy to get all their goodies.  Finally it was my turn to open mine.  I carefully untied the bows and then un-taped each end of the nicely wrapped gift.  After I opened it up, there was a brown box. Inside it was a pair of ugly, worn torn boots that were not even my size.  Sadly I was very disappointed and cried and wondered to myself.  “Why did someone do this to me?”  I felt hurt and torn.  It isn’t April Fools Day.  I had a miserable Christmas day while the rest of the family were laughing at me.

This is the one special memory of a Christmas miracle and what Christmas is all about even if it started out sadly for me.  That evening before Christmas night ended, the same couple from Church brought another beautiful gift with my name on it “Ratana”.  It was only to me and no one else.  I opened it and I felt like a little angel.  This time I gave everyone that sad look on my face before I opened it because I wasn't ready for another surprise like the old boot from my first gift.  Inside this lovely gift box was a beautiful, furry new pair of boots.  They were dark red and fluffy and so warm.  Everyone told me they loved me and just wanted to surprise me later and that the first gift was not meant to hurt or make me cry.  I wore the boots everywhere I went.  It was to save the best for last.

I learned from that day to always give good gifts to others, the first time around, no matter what.  And that Christmas can be pretty special.