Storytelling Sunday: Memories Managed

It's the first Sunday of the last month of the year. Know what that means? Course you do! We've been telling stories here every first Sunday all year - think what we have achieved! In the past eleven months you have posted 252 tales (with another 11 from me). That's amazing, isn't it? We've gone from 7 in January to 37 in November. We could manage 300 memories before the year is out!

We've laughed, we've cried, we've connected. And that's a very good feeling. I've met some lovely new bloggers, I've learned a thing or three; and I hope you have too. I thought maybe you'd all be ready to let go and try something new next year. But it seems not. Let's tweak it a little, though, keep things fresh. Let's see who else we can persuade to join us.

But enough of moving on for now. Look at me - half way through a post and no hint of a story yet. Let's fix that. I have a short, simple Christmas one for you today. It could be sad, if I let it. But I'm determined it won't be.

It's about two little girls, and their even littler brother. The same three who appeared in the first page of my Christmas album this year. Here they are:

Now, these three were lucky enough to have a Father and a Mother who believed very strongly in the power of Christmas. And never was that belief tested more sorely than in that last Christmas they were all together. For the grownups knew that one of them had only a few months left to live.

But Christmas was still Christmas, and there was magic to be made, and they knew how to do that.

It started, really, with a letter from Father Christmas. Every year those three wrote their letters and put them under the tree and waited for them to disappear. Every year they knew that the letters had been read and filed away by the man in the red suit, for they always got exactly what they had asked for. But only this year, only the once, did Santa have the time to reply. And this is what he wrote:

What a thrill it was! It was passed round and round, even taken into school I think, envied by friends and enjoyed by adults. And when, finally, it had been read and reread, and held up to the light to check it was genuine, it was tucked safely away by the biggest of the three. She already believed in the power of Christmas; but maybe, just maybe, that's when she started to believe in the power of scrapbooking too.

And that's why she'd like to thank each and every one of you for joining Storytelling Sunday this year. Every time you wrote something down, posted it on your blog, you left it right there to be found when it was needed. You should be proud. You should all be very proud. Tell your story - because one day someone will come looking for it. And you want it to be there. Don't you?

So, for the last time this year, leave your link below. Write your story, with a sentence explaining what Storytelling Sunday is all about, then come back here and link us up. One rule this time round - you must wish the two linkers above you (more if you have time!) a Very Merry Christmas. Leave them a comment. Spread a bit of good cheer. Happy Christmas.