“I look back to a happy childhood,” said, Catherine Helen Spence. My childhood was great until one Christmas day. I did not receive a present that I have always wanted.
Or to go back: When I was seven years old, I saw a girl riding a sparkly, pink bicycle with a flower basket attached to the front. The following Christmas, I wrote a letter to Santa. I told him that I wanted the same bike. I even drew the bicycle on the next page of the letter as well as a map to my house. I woke up extra early on Christmas morning. Too eager to open my present, I rushed downstairs. “WHERE IS MY PRESENT, WHERE IS MY PRESENT?” I screamed. “Calm down, Kalpana,” Mother chided me while bending down the bright Christmas tree to pick up something. “Here.” When
