‘Are you willing to forget what you have done for other people, and
To remember what other people have done for you…
To remember the weakness and loneliness of people who are growing old…
Are you willing to believe that love is the strongest ting in the world…
Stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death…
Then you can keep Christmas!
But you can never keep it alone’
– Henry van Dyke (‘Keeping Christmas’ in The Spirit of Christmas)

December 3, 2010: Dear Santa Claus, My mother went away today and I have decided what I want for Christmas: I want my mother back. I am the biggest, so I try not to cry because Liz and Nelly will cry too. I do not want any presents this year, or next year even; only my mother. If you could send her back from where you live in the stars, I would be very grateful.  Aunt Helen said mummy had to go be a star, but I promise you that I and Liz and Nelly need her here too.
Yours truly Yours sincerely, Samantha Lewis (Sammie for short, in case you have trouble knowing me because there are a lot of Samanthas around.)

Large brown eyes set on a fair round face framed by reddish brown hair, all set on a petite body, coloured the back window of the rusted blue car bouncing along the potholed street on the outskirts of the capital city of Georgetown.
The silence was almost overwhelming, the only sound being the car struggling through the old road and the quite irregular breathing of two heavy-set people in the front seat and a tiny little girl tucked away in a corner at the back.
The whispers that were there at the beginning of the journey broke the silence now.
“The timing is just horrible….Mary has Liz and Sonia has Nelly, but Sammie….should we do this? Can’t we take her with us?”
“Dear, you know we have no other choice; we have to go; this is a real important opportunity…dear…”
The silence returned as soon as the car broke free of the potholes and water, onto smoother paths of the city.
The sun seemed brighter then, or was it the freshly washed and painted houses and shops that were already celebrating Christmas.
The picture changed again: It was back to the potholes along a narrow street, and after what seemed an eternity, the car finally came to a halt.
Getting out of the vehicle, Sammie dragged the haversack she hugged during the ride to this place.
She stopped short of the institution — in her few years, her mind had been made up about these cream buildings — taking it all in. This was to be her new home, at least until her aunt and uncle came back from Trinidad, where he was going to work.
“Home,” Sammie whispered. “This will never be anything.”
“Come, Sammie.” The dejected girl looked up at the sky one last time before she followed the voice into the compound, her head fixed to the ground.
“Yes, aunty,” she sighed.
She could hear their whispers before she got there. They were talking about her ‘arrangements’. She knew it.
Walking up to the room (the office, as the sign above the door indicated), bits of greenery caught her eye. It was holiday decorations hung up very haphazardly, and the notion of spending Christmas in an institution made her even unhappier.
As she neared the doorway, Sammie noticed a group of girls bundled on the stairway, peering out at her. Some wore smiles; others just seemed curious; and one in particular looked at her in a rather strange way.
That alone sent shivers down her back.
Sammie upped her pace and reached the office soon enough, but only to hear her ‘sentence’.
“Miss, I am not sure when my husband and I will be back, but we will write and call… if  you can keep her… because we have no one to take her.”
No one wanted her. The realisation hurt more than Sammie thought it would. She’d  always been nice enough to her relatives. They took in her sisters, but they did not want her.
“What did I do wrong,” she said softly to herself.
The impact of the situation set its full force on her shoulders, and once again, her gaze returned to the floor.
“A seven-year-old girl should not be so sad,” a sweet voice chirped.
Sammie did not look up.
When her aunt left, she accepted the embrace and then stood in a corner with her haversack close to her feet.
“Come, dear.”
Sammie thought that the hand that grasped her tiny one was soft, and there was something comforting there, but she would not let herself feel anything because everyone leaves you.
“Everyone leaves,” she whispered to herself.
“Did you say something, dear?”
“No, Miss.”
“Okay then; let me show you to your room.”
Hand-in-hand, they made their way up the stairs and found a small white room with two beds on either side.
“Here we are. You will be sharing this room with a girl your age — Abigail. This is your bed, and you can unpack your clothes in these drawers here,” the woman said, pointing to a simple chest-of-drawers that had a mirror at the top.
Sammie sat on the bed and did not say anything, but accepted the woman’s help to unpack her things with a nod.
Her clothes went into the drawers, and the toiletries lined the surface just under the mirror and her books on the two shelves against the wall. Sammie slid a large black notebook (her diary) under her pillow, and set Mr. Bear, her longtime friend, on top of the pillow.
When they were done, Sammie sat back on the bed and listened to the woman tell her that she would start a new school in January, after the holidays, and how she should come to her if there was any problem.
“Sammie, I know this is not easy for you, but it is not so bad here. My name is Carol, by the way,” the woman said, taking Sammie’s hands into hers.
Sammie looked up and managed a weak smile in return to Carol’s bright smile.
“Thank you,” Sammie said, when Carol was at the door.
Carol smiled again and returned a few minutes later with a short girl.
“Sammie, this is Abigail. Abigail, help Sammie settle in, OK.”
“Sure thing, Miss Carol.”
The first night in a strange place could not have been worse. Sammie was vaguely aware that she was screaming and that Carol was holding her, trying to comfort her.
“It was just a bad dream, sweetie; just a bad dream.”
“I will not cry,” Sammie whispered, half awake.
“Shhhhh! Go back to sleep, dear.”

‘Surprise’

The next morning, Sammie woke up early and tossed a bit on the bed. Dragging her hand under her pillow, she got up with a start.
Something was there.
Moving her pillow, she found something wrapped in writing paper.
Unwrapping the mystery, Sammie found a crystal star with an inscription that said ‘hope’ at the back.
The writing paper had something scribbled there, too.
It said: “This is hope, Sammie. No matter what happens in life, we continue living because we have hope. They say when you lose someone, like you lost your mom, that person becomes a star, and no matter where you go, you will always have that star to guide you; you will always have hope.”    
Sammie stared at the little star for a long time. She lay back down smiling, even as she wondered how it got there.

“Good morning, Sammie,” Abigail called. “Are you okay? You had a bad dream last night. Right now, we have to go take our baths and get ready for breakfast. It is the holidays, so we get to hang out. What do you like to do? Where did you live before?”
Sammie laughed after a while.
“You have to slow down with your questions.”
Abigail laughed, too.
The two hit it off nicely, and they spent most of the day in the library, reading and making drawings. After lunch, they got to watch television. The rest of the day was spent playing games, and the night was without incident.
The next day was similar to the last, and so each one flowed into the other. Lazy days, Miss Carol called them, and apart from small chores, the days were free.
By now Sammie knew that there were 17 girls at the ‘Bell’s Children Centre’. Miss Carol was Mr. Bell’s granddaughter, and she took care of the place after he died. Most of the girls were nice, but there was one with a ‘stare’ — Tanya, who was 14, and always looked angry. Sammie steered clear of her, and spent most of her time with Abigail.
She was finding out that the Centre was not all that bad.
Still, there were days when things were not so good either.
It had been two weeks now, since December 3, and Christmas was getting closer. With one thought came another: The memory of a letter she wrote to ‘the Big Man’.  
“Things have changed, so I need a new letter,” Sammie said to Miss Carol later that day. “Will you post it for me? I don’t know any post offices here.”
“Of course, dear; just give it to me when you are finished, OK.”
Sammie smiled.

December 17, 2010: Dear Santa Claus, Please forget my first letter. I love my mother, but since she is a star and Heaven needs her, I do not want to take her back. I am OK, and the Centre is not bad. Miss Carol is very nice, and I found a friend; her name is Abigail. Anyways, I know what I want for Christmas. I would like to see my sisters, Liz and Nelly; I miss them very much. I do not want any presents, only that. Yours sincerely, Samantha Lewis

The days continued to roll on and soon enough, it was the day before Christmas Eve. Sammie was getting anxious, because she had not heard any word from her family to indicate that she might see her sisters.
“Miss Carol,” she shouted as she ran to the office.
“Sammie! My goodness! What is wrong?”
“Did you send my letter? Do you know of Santa got it…do you? Are Liz and Nelly coming to see me?”
“Calm down, dear. I am sure Santa got your letter.”
“Do you think they are coming?”
“Oh, Sammie, I am not sure, but I do know that they remember you and love you the same way.”
Sammie was not sure, and spent the rest of the day in her room.

At breakfast the next day, Miss Carol announced that the day was to be special. The girls were going to cook for some old folks and take food for them at the home at which they stayed.
Sammie managed to muster some spirit and did what she had to.
All the hands available and the Christmas songs Miss Carol sang made the task lighter, and just before noon, the girls and the food loaded up in a big bus and set off on their journey.
The patio where the little celebration was held was bustling with activity.
Sammie stayed in one corner, only moving to do as she was told.
“Sammie,” Carol called.
“Yes, Miss Carol.”
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Miss Carol.”
“Okay then; different question…What was Christmas like at home?”
Sammie smile at the memory. “It was always nice. There was food and toys, and everyone was together.”
“That sounds very nice…So what do you think Christmas means, then?”
“The same thing; family together.”
“Sammie, come here,” Carol said, pulling the little girl onto her lap. “There are different kinds of families. The girls, you and I, are a family. These people here are a family. There are many kinds of families, and you don’t have to be related. You just have to love the people you are with, okay.”
Sammie nodded.
“Good girl! So now, will you please shake off the sad face and help me make this family feel special?”
“Yes, Miss Carol.”
“Good girl! When you see that the holidays are about spreading love, then you won’t have missed out on the true spirit of Christmas. And the best part is that you can keep it through the whole year.”
Christmas morning came swiftly, and everyone was excited with the presents and the food and the fun.
Sammie was hopeful and had fun, but made sure, too, that she kept looking at the gate for her sisters.
As the day began to wind down, she became less hopeful.
Her sisters did not come.
Sammie found Miss Carol, and with tears in her eyes, said, “Miss Carol, are you sure the letter went…my…my…Liz and Nelly did not come.”
“Come dear,” Carol said and picked her up.
Taking her to the Christmas Tree set up in the play-room, Carol took a little star and placed it in Sammie’s hand.
“Do you know what this means, Sammie?”
“Hope,” the seven-year-old said through tears.
“Yes, dear, it means hope. Now maybe your sisters could not come over to see you, but you do have hope that you will see them again, and you do have a good heart. You helped those people yesterday; you can always hope. You hear me.”
Sammie nodded.
“You put the star under my pillow?”
“Maybe,” Carol said with a smile.
Sammie smiled back.
“Can I keep this other one, Miss Carol?”
“Okay, but on one condition: That you stop crying, yes?”
Sammie smiled.
Star in hand, the small girl walked straight to Tanya’s room. But before she could step in, the tall girl was looming over her.
Sammie did not stammer (as she would have usually), instead, she held out her hand.
“This is hope. No matter what happens in life, we can live, because we have hope. No matter where you go, you will always have a star to guide you, and you will always have hope…”