When I was about five years old my grandparents bought a home in Florida to spend the winter months away from the hostile winters of the north. My parents decided that it would be fun to escape the frigid Michigan winter, too, and visit them for Christmas that year. While we were all very excited about the trip, Mom and Dad secretly worried that Christmas would be spoiled for my sister and I without the white blanket of snow that always accompanied Santas visit. With true pioneer spirit, we braved the journey into the world of warm weathered Christmass with the faith that Santa would still find us in the land of sunshine.

My grandparents had not transported their Christmas decorations yet and had waited even to get a tree until we arrived. I overheard my Mother and Grandmother talking. Mom was a bit upset about the lack of decorations but Grandma just told her Never mind Dona, it will give them something to do. I didnt understand what she meant, and am not sure if my Mother did at the time either, but it wasnt long before we both found out.

The next day my Father and I took a walk into the woods nearby the house. We picked out a great little tree, cut it down and dragged it back home behind us. We then all packed up and went to the Gulf coastline which was only a short drive from their Fort Myers homestead. There the whole family experienced the fun of collecting seashells for the first time. There were more kinds of shells than I could have ever imagined existed. My little bag was stuffed with perfect and beautiful specimens as we headed for the car to return home. What an exciting and wonderful day it had been.

Back at home, there was still much more work to do. We painted, glittered, and glued the shells transforming them into festive ornaments for display on the beautiful little pine. Bowls of popcorn and cranberries were turned in to garlands and wrapped around the branches. A glittering golden starfish was placed on top. Though I never wondered about this phenomena in my younger years, a box of tinsel just happened to be handy to put a final touch to the little tree that had been transformed into a family created work of art.

Christmas morning we all sat at the table eating our traditional Christmas breakfast of sausage, orange slices, and graham muffins before opening gifts. Santa had found us just fine and we children were impatient to get the meal over with. Gathered around the tree after breakfast, we all admired the work of art we had created as we passed around the presents. No one seemed to notice that outside there was green grass instead of a blanket of white. The snow was never missed.

For a child, Christmas is a special time of year every year, but looking back to my childhood, I only really remember one Christmas in particular with any clarity. I remember the Christmas in Florida that didnt just happen. We had to make it.