Miranda had no great expectations for Christmas this year. Dad had been out of work for months and the oil bill was overdue, with temperatures hovering below twenty degrees outside. Even at the age of eleven, she was able to understand the strained expressions on her parents' faces as they sat down at the kitchen table each evening with the pile of bills between them. When they thought Miranda was safely asleep, the conversation turned to which bills could be put off and which had to be paid. More and more often, bills migrated from the "pay now" pile to the "put off" pile as their meager savings shrank.

 Christmas dawned bright and perfect. A fresh coat of snow had fallen the night before. For the first time in her life, Miranda didn't jump out of bed and rush to the living room early Christmas morning. She didn’t think she had any presents to look forward to opening.

    The tree looked lonely this year with just six boxes under it. Two were for Miranda. Her parents waited anxiously while she opened her gifts. The first was one of the books she’d wanted. Miranda opened the second gift eagerly, tearing at the wrapping paper and throwing it aside. She opened the box and found a sweater - but not a beautiful pink, warm, woolen sweater. This sweater was scratchy and a putrid lime green. Miranda hated it and was bitterly disappointed. She wished her parents had given her nothing. Then she could have at least hoped to get the sweater she loved sometime in the future. Now she would never get it. In these hard times, her parents would never be able to buy her a second sweater.

    Miranda hid her feelings and was glad she had done so when she saw the modest gifts her parents had gotten for each other; a set of new work shoes and six pairs of thick white socks for dad; a scarf and bright red Christmas candle for mom. Last year, mom had squealed with delight when she received a string of pearls and dad swelled with pride as he placed them on her neck. They stayed up late that night, dancing in the living room to the music on an oldies radio station.

    Mom told Miranda to get ready for church. When she pulled on her coat, mom said, "Why don’t you wear your new sweater", and so, Miranda did, as mom put on her new scarf.

 The walk to church was long, cold and hardly festive. All three of them were so deep in their own thoughts that they could have missed the pitiful little cries coming from behind a dumpster in the alleyway.

    "It sounds like a baby!" exclaimed her mother. Dad used all his strength to move the dumpster a foot away from a brick wall, and Miranda squeezed into the opening while her parents waited anxiously.

    "What is it, Miranda? Is it a baby?"

    "Yes mom," her glowing voice answered, "It is a baby."

    "Oh, my god!" her mother exclaimed.

    "It’s a baby", Miranda repeated, her voice full of wonder, "a baby kitten."

    Miranda emerged, cradling a tiny little kitten, newborn and shivering. Miranda opened her coat and tucked the kitten under her new lime green sweater. She felt its fur grow warm and then the tiny vibrations of its purr as it curled up against her new sweater and fell asleep.

    Miranda’s parents held hands as the four of them made their way down the snowy sidewalk to church on Christmas day.  Reprinted with permission of the author.