My daughter Jan was so excited it was Christmas Eve because this was the first she'd be sharing with her baby brother. September of last year, my son Matt was born premature, and because of complications, he spent Christmas in the hospital. That was then, this is now.

“So nice to hear happy giggles from the kids,” I said to my husband Marty. 'Yeah," he said, "those two are like peas in a pod. Too bad I have to work tonight, I'll miss you guys," he said. I watched Jan and Matt playing with spoons and stacking the kitchen spice tins with symmetrical whimsy. These kids don't need toys from Santa, they just need one another, I thought. Marty no sooner kissed them goodbye than Jan grabbed his ankle and said, “but daddy, it's Christmas Eve, please stay. Puleeze.” Marty gave her a big hug and promised he'd be home before she awoke. Randy, our dog ran to the window licking the frost making a clearer view for the kids to wave goodbye. Jan blew kisses and, as usual, Matt mimicked her. He then looked up to her and gave a quick peck on the cheek. It’s moments like these I wished for a camcorder, because in time, most memories fade.

We made popcorn taking turns eating and stringing. Jan was so close to Matt, she was nearly squishing him, when suddenly Matt started choking. “Mommy, Mommy quick. Matt got popcorn stuck. I gave him popcorn.” Visions of the blueness in his face when he was born came barreling into my head. I picked him up giving a firm upward thrust, his upper abdomen felt soft and puffy, like marshmallow. Upward again, and again. My ears were full of pounding. I heard Jan sobbing, “I'm sorry Mommy. I'm sorry Matt. I shouldn't have given him popcorn but he wanted to share.” cried Jan. Finally, he upchucked the piece and it hit Jan smack in the nose. She laughed and giggled with happiness calling him a silly dilly. “You're okay Matt. Mom saved you and you hit me in the nose with popcorn,” she said with out of breath joy. Matt just sat there giggling, totally unfazed by what had happened. "You're a super power Mommy, because you're strong. You're like Doctor Frank who saved Matt when he was born.” I pulled Matthew and Jan close to me hugging them for a very very long time.

With the tree in place, Santa's cookies and milk set out on the coffee table and joy in the house, we went to bed early, holding near our expectation of Christmas day as it curtained over us in our sleep. I tucked the little piece of popcorn Matt upchucked in my bureau drawer thinking it would always remind me of this very special Christmas Eve.

When I felt the kids tugging at my blanket, I knew it was Christmas Day. With my feet cuddled in slippers I was pulled into the living room. There were gifts everywhere, each with different wrappings. Jan and Matt began tearing the paper off quicker than our dog chewed mail. "Santa really did come this year,” said Jan. “Santy,” said Matt. “Love Santy.” There were dolls, trucks, cars, a dollhouse, record player and stuffed animals. Jan said “Mommy, for you. Mommy, another one for you, and a bunch for Daddy too.” Marty's key jiggled in the front door lock and I jumped up to greet him. “Marty look! I don't know what's going on, but look. Look at these presents, Marty.” “Holy Mackrel, who could’ve. . .?” he said. An unwrapped box caught his eye, it was a camcorder with my name on it. “This is Christmas, Marty. I feel like a little girl.” We formed a circle with the kids and jumped and spun till we were dizzy, while all the time I wondered where the gifts came from. We were making so much noise, Marty was the only one to hear the doorbell. “Mom and Dad?” Marty said. “Honey, it’s your Parents.” With quivering lips Mom told Marty how sorry she was for not accepting him into the family. “We're so ashamed we cut you from our lives. So regretting we weren't there for the kids. . .” Mom's voice trailed into tears. She stood silently with outstretched arms as Dad fumbled for a handkerchief. Marty’s emotions surfaced and my crying became heavier, when Jan rescued the situation by saying, “this is our Grandma and Grandpa, Matt,” then turning toward Mom and Dad she said, “I recognize you from pictures but i think you’re both younger now.”

I felt the kids tugging at my blanket and realized the Christmas I just lived was part of a very special dream. “Mommy, Mommy, get up. The doorbells ringing.” I thought Marty forgot his keys, but when I opened the door, saw two Police Officers. My Parents were in a car accident a few miles down the road. “Your Mom and Dad will be fine, Mrs. Jenkins.” The other officer added, “your Mother asked that you get Christmas gifts from their car before it’s towed, also, your husband was on his way home and stopped for the accident. When he realized it was your Parents, he followed the ambulance.” I gave the Policemen cookies to snack on and Jan and Matt gave them a coloring. My neighbor stopped by to see what was wrong and offered to watch the kids. I dressed with the speed of lightening and when I got to the car found dozens of gifts wrapped just like the ones in my dream. One unwrapped gift stood out from the rest, a camcorder. Totally surreal I thought, as I stood dazed.

I was told I’m a visionary and that I possess super powers I should strengthen, but I prefer to think of this as a once in a lifetime episode that I wished could be saved in my special place next to Matt's piece of popcorn.