Each Christmas was the same as the previous one. I'd jump out of bed and run to the living room where, under the brightly decorated tree, sat my presents. I loved the wrapping paper. A variety of snowmen, Santas, and trees covered my surprises. I'd carefully unwrap the items, pleased at the toys that lay within. My parents sat watching, smiling indulgently at my pleasure. Then my twelfth birthday passed. That Christmas, I ran to find . . . gloves, socks, a scarf, a dressing gown, and underwear. Disappointed and confused, I looked at my mother. She shrugged. “You're grown up now.”
Lynne Bell lives in Suffolk with her family. Her first book When Mary Died has been very successful. She likes reading, writing, and watching films. Facebook: C L Bell - Author