The year I was four, had been one of the worst ones for my family.  My father lost his job and he couldn’t find a new one.  We were evicted from our home and we depended on the kindness of friends and family; but eventually, each one of them asked us to move out.   I was a small child but I still remember how embarrassed I felt.

One night, during the holidays, my father told us we would not get Christmas presents from that day on.  Christmas was officially over for my little brother, my big sister, and me. We were heartbroken but  didn't lose hope.  We were young enough to believe in magic and not old enough to face the cruel truth. 

But we didn’t lose hope. We believed in the Three Wise Kings and thought they would come no matter what Dad said. We waited all night to see them fly across the sky riding their camels, with bags full of gifts.  They didn’t come. I had never been so disappointed.

Eventually, my father found a job and we had many celebrations after that, but I will never forget the year Christmas was cancelled.