“We were homeless at Christmas.
One day my dad popped out to the shops and never came back leaving my mum, weeks before Christmas, with 2p in her purse and a baby, 3 year old and 4 year old poorly with mumps to look after. After a few desperate days with some help from her lovely Health Visitor who organised food etc for families like us in a crisis situation, my mum realised he wasn’t coming back. Her best friend took us in and weeks before Christmas there we were, five small children and two mums in a small two bed flat.
My mum was skint, as in super skint. Her husband had walked out on her through no fault of her own and I can’t imagine what she must have been going through. BUT, do you know what, in the eyes of us, as kids, we had a flipping ball that Christmas! All I remember is being concerned about whether Father Christmas would know that we had moved to my mums best friends flat, what if he went down the chimney of the house we had just left!?
Fancy new bikes weren’t on the cards but as a little girl I just wanted to know that Father Christmas had remembered me. I wanted to believe in the magic of Christmas and proof that he was in fact real. So when we had little presents waiting for us under the tree on Christmas morning we were over the moon – it didn’t matter what the presents were all that mattered is that the magic WAS real and that he HAD remembered me and my two brothers.
I guess my message, to anyone who is going through similar to what my own mum went through that Christmas, is don’t worry about the bikes, the iPads, the playstation. A touch of magic on Christmas morning is all they will remember in the end.
Materialistic stuff gets forgotten about whereas memories of the magic stay forever, I’m proof of that.
And to my mum, Anne, you’ve taught me to be like the stars in the sky – never to fall and keep on shining no matter what. Love you xx” @thenofiltermum
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