Guest Blogger: Melissa Ann Goodwin

You’d think that by now I would have learned my lesson about touching stuff at Grandma’s house. I’ve had plenty of time to think about that while lounging in this hammock under the Tiki Hut on this white sandy beach, with just three days to go until Christmas.

I’ll back up a little and explain. Last year, when I was 12, Mom and I were going through a rough time, so we went to spend Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa at their house in Vermont. I was pretty down in the dumps, and I kept wishing that I could escape to a place where things don’t ever change.

Grandma had put out her miniature Christmas Village – you know, those collections of little cottages and Ye Olde Shoppes, with carolers and a skating pond and all that. It’s really pretty and old-fashioned looking, and I admit I was kinda fascinated by it. You probably won’t believe this, but one night I made the BIG mistake of touching something in the village, and the next thing I knew, I was in it! Even though I’d been wishing I could live in the Christmas Village, the minute I got there, all I wanted to do was get back home.

Anyway, that’s all another story, because the other day, Grandma said, “Jamie, I think we should go with a Polynesian Christmas theme this year!” So instead of putting out her Christmas Village with the cotton batting snow and tiny cottages, Grandma got all this white beach sand and spread it in a big box on top of a table. Then she added a bunch of fake palm trees and all these miniature Tiki Huts. She strung colored lights all over it and added some fat little Santa Clauses wearing grass skirts, leis, and Santa hats.

Last night, after everyone else was in bed, I came back into the living room to check out the Polynesian Christmas beach scene. I saw that one of the Tiki Huts looked a little crooked, so I reached out to straighten it, and … well, I think you can figure out what happened next ….

It’s hot out there on the beach, but it’s nice and cool here under the Tiki Hut. A few minutes ago, one of the fat Santas in a grass skirt said he’d bring me another ice-cold lemonade. If I squint, the white sand looks a little like snow. The ocean water is an amazing swirl of colors that reminds me of Mom’s opal ring. While lying in this hammock, I’ve been trying to figure out how I’m going to get back home in time for Christmas. But this year, I’m 13, and I just spotted a couple of really cute girls in bikinis heading this way. So now I’m thinking that maybe I’ll just hang out here under the Tiki Hut a while longer, and worry about all that other stuff later.

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Melissa Ann Goodwin
Author of The Christmas Village

I treasure wonderful memories of a happy and carefree childhood growing up in the beautiful New England town of Andover, Massachusetts. I am especially grateful to the teachers there, who encouraged me to read the books that inspired me to become a writer. I have written many stories, poems and articles for the Fun for Kidz family of childrens' magazines, and my non-fiction work has appeared in national magazines and newspapers, including Guideposts' Angels on Earth, Caring Today, and The Caregivers' Home Companion. I'm also a restorative yoga teacher, that's why my blog handle is "WriterYogini." My husband, artist J. Richard Secor, and I currently live in Santa Fe, NM, but we've sold our home and plan to tour the U.S. and Canada in an RV starting next spring.