If Money Grew on Christmas Trees

Christmas is such a magical time. Wouldn't you agree? When I think back to all of the
Christmas season's that I've lived through, one stands out the most. A Christmas like no
other.

I was still a little girl, and Christmas vacation had just started. We lived in the city, in an old
broken down apartment complex called Sunsweet Villa. The alley's between buildings were
always filled with the sound of kids, and basketballs, and were constantly crowded by
passersby, and the occasional tin can or two. It wasn't much, but it was home to myself and
several of my friends, who frequently played in the big court yard.

I lived in the apartment on the far left of the yard. My best friend Christopher lived on my
right, and Ms. Lynn lived on the other side of him. She was a nice old lady. Everyday she
watched us play tag or frisbee through her kitchen window. She never talked to us, or ever
really smiled, but I saw her laughing once when Christopher got his underpants caught on a
swing. Mother said that she was just sad, because her husband had died. I waved to her
every morning.

On the other side of Ms. Lynn lived another one of my friends, Sommer. She was really good
at playing Jacks, and she always seemed to be wearing the same pink shirt. Didn't matter a bit
to us. My favorite shirt was red. Sommer's apartment was on the far left side of the yard.

Across the way lived Nicholas. He was a rowdy boy, who was always the champ of "King of
the Mountain." He was big for his age, and while he was around, none of the other court yard
bullies ever tried to bother us.

His next door neighbor was a little girl named Jordan. She never came out side, just like Ms.
Lynn, but we could all tell that she wanted to. We played Jacks with her outside her bedroom
window sometimes, and it was hard for her to lean out, since she was crippled, and unable to
use her legs, but she still usually won.

Next door to Jordan lived Mrs. Hubbard. She had six kids, and Nicholas used to tease her
because she was just like to nursery rhyme. I think his mother grounded him for that often.
Two of Mrs. Hubbard's kids were babies, and it always seemed like they would cry at the
same time every afternoon. My mother said that you could set your watch by them.
Whatever that meant.

In the second to the last apartment, a teenage boy named Andrew lived. He was a great
singer. His favorites were several beat up old records that he played on an ancient record
player that his mother had bought for him at a garage sale. Sometimes we sang with him.
We weren't very good, but there was just something amazing about all of us singing together.
Even the birds stopped to listen. At night, Andrew would sing the old ballads of yesterday,
which Mrs. Hubbard loved, because it helped to put her babies right to sleep.

The very last apartment belonged to Derrick. He was a man only slightly younger than my
mother and father. He talked to us whenever we wanted him to, and he was the one who
had taught us how to play so many games. But, all he ever did was wash and wax his car.
Really. Every single day, unless it was raining, or very cold he would stand outside and
"baby" as he called it, his car. My father said that since Derek lost his coaching job at the
high school, that taking care of that old car was the only thing he had left to do.

So, like I said, Christmas vacation had just started, and excitement hung in the air like a
dense fog. We wouldn't get many presents, but we would all walk down the street to the
"nice" neighborhood, and look at Christmas lights shortly after dusk. It was an event not to
be missed. We had all made plans to go that night, but for right now, it was game time.