Christmas Memories of the hiding place

When I think of Christmas I always remember that horrible little closet in the "scary" room at our farm house in Seward, Illinois. Mom and Daddy scared us into never entering that room because the floors were unsafe and I always imagined myself falling through the boards and landing on the kitchen table. It made for a very good hiding place for all of our Christmas gifts. They locked the door somehow...yet there was a very large crack that little eyes could peer through and imagine what wonders were in store there. What is that driving urge that compels us to want to know what our gifts are...then feeling guilty for knowing? You never let on that you actually may have seen your metal doll house with the colorful plastic furniture through that little crack in the door. The best part of Christmas are those fun memories and the guilt that we carry after 52 holidays of peeking in those forbidden places and remembering the thrill of waking up on Christmas morning and finding out that all those great gifts were really yours and not the property of your little sister.