Before Christmas, when I was a little girl, in a tiny little village in Norway inland – midst the tight woods – dark evenings with stars and snow upon…. expectation – Christmas Eve is so far away. I believe nobody could be as impatient as me… I counted days, many times a day. Christmas never comes!
My Mother was making new cloths to me and to the rest of the family. I remember especially one dress; red with a chequered wowen pattern, wide collar with a velvet ribbon, the skirt was plisse and reached beyond my knees. Usually only ladies had these long dresses at that time, so I felt quite important…
The dress was so nice, but it was a big scar: It was woollen, and it was terrily itching; I was longing to put iot on, because I liked to dress up, and this was more than ‘sunday nice’. But always some hampering the joy, sensitive child skin did not correspond to itching wool! Oh, what problems we had…in the fifties…..
Find small dimples
in your dailydays
creap into one
and feel how warm it is
This post is also available in: Norwegian