I tried desperately to recognise my surroundings. "Well don't be yelling like some wild animal child, you'll frighten the poor woman half to death,'' said another more mature sounding voice in the distance. "How are you feeling?'' the mature voice was now standing over me, and I slowly focused in on a stout older black lady with a kind looking face. "My head is pounding and my leg hurts, but I think I'm OK. Where am I?'' I asked in a confused tone. "You had a bike accident down on the street. My son found you unconscious and brought you here,'' she replied, sounding concerned. "Your son...'' I stumbled on the words as I tried to comprehend what had happened to me. "Yes, my son Stephen.

He'll be right back. He just went outside to retrieve your bike,'' she continued with obvious pride in her voice. "Stephen...Oh no!...I have to call Steve, my husband!'' I announced dramatically, suddenly remembering what happened and where I was expected to be. "He is probably worried sick about me,'' I explained, trying to get up quickly. "Ouch!'' I winced suddenly as I felt a sharp pain travel down my leg along with a wave of dizziness that caused me to suddenly fall back to the couch. "Take it easy girl,'' the lady advised in a concerned tone. "You've been through quite an accident. You should just sit back and rest awhile.'' "But I really need to call my husband,'' I begged in a pleading voice. "I'm afraid that won't be possible right now,'' she advised gently as she used one hand to guide me back towards the couch where I had been lying. "The power is out so we can't use the phone until Belco turns it back on,'' she explained. "My name's Verna, and I promise as soon as it comes back on, we will call your family,'' she said with a calming smile. With that explanation I suddenly was able to comprehend my surroundings. The room I was in was very dimly lit and I noticed some burning candles situated throughout giving off some light. The room itself was fairly small and simply furnished with the couch and an extra lounge chair. There was a small entertainment unit housing a television, and a few family pictures. A tiny Christmas tree stood in one corner decorated happily with home-made decorations, and there was Christmas music playing from a small radio near the tree. Another entrance way led to what smelled like the kitchen but even though I could not see the other rooms, I could tell that the apartment was fairly small. I could also see by the few presents under the tree that this family did not have a lot of money. However, despite being in surroundings I was not accustomed to, I had a distinct sense of being very comfortable and safe, almost as if I were in my own home. "Can I get you something to eat or drink young lady?'' Verna asked politely. "Maybe just some water please,'' I replied timidly. "Whatever it is you're cooking though smells delicious,'' I added as the delightful aroma of Christmas cooking filled the air tempting me to change my request. "Why thank you,'' Verna replied with obvious pride in her voice. "It's a good thing it's a gas stove 'cause there's no way I'd be able to get all this cooking done and make church,'' she announced as she stood up to fulfill my earlier request. "Ma makes the best cassava pie,'' chimed in the little girl. "The whole neighbourhood comes to dinner just for that.'' "That's enough of that young lady, we don't boast in this house,'' came Verna's quick reprimand. "Come help me in the kitchen and you can bring the nice lady her water,'' she commanded as she guided the energetic little girl into the kitchen. While I was lying on the couch alone, the front door opened and a tall boy came running in soaking wet. "Well you look a little better than the last time I saw you,'' he remarked with a smile as he removed his jacket. "How do you feel? Looking at the condition of your bike, that must have been some accident,'' he continued as he approached me. "My head's a little foggy and my leg hurts, but considering everything, I don't feel that bad,'' I replied. "I really need to thank you for helping me the way you did,'' I continued gratefully, "who knows what could have happened to me if you hadn't been there.'' "That's OK. I'm just glad I found you when I did,'' he replied shyly. "Speaking of found, I also picked up what I think is your briefcase, along with a bag with some sort of gift in it,'' he advised. "You found my briefcase...'' I stammered, slightly surprised. "Yeah, actually other than a few scuff marks, it's in one piece. Must be pretty good huh?'' he stood next to me smiling. I don't know why I was instinctively surprised he was returning my things or had made the effort to get them. However, I did know that I was suddenly embarrassed and ashamed of feeling that way. "You know I think I can repair your bike. I fool around a lot with them as a hobby and most of the damage is just cosmetic stuff,'' he advised. I began to squirm around on the couch unable to look him in the eyes realising that with each kind offer of assistance, I felt worse. The guilt I was feeling was compounded even more remembering what I said to him when I first saw him. The words I uttered when he approached me, the immediate concern for my safety, without any thought that he might actually help me. All I saw was a black man and I thought and assumed the worst...How could I? "What I said to you...when I first saw you...,'' I was stammering badly now. "I'm so sorry. All I can say Cassava Pie silence for a moment, then he finally smiled and said, "Don't worry about it.

If I had seen me coming, I would have been scared to death too.'' With that comment, the room suddenly flooded with light and came to life as the power miraculously came back on. It didn't take long once the power had come on, for me to reach a frantic Steve, who only briefly nagged me for refusing his original ride. After a quick conversation with Verna on the phone, he assured me he knew where he was going and was on his way to pick me up as soon as humanly possible. However, at that moment it didn't bother me when he would show up as I was actually enjoying the moment. The little girl hadn't exaggerated when she said the whole neighbourhood came over to enjoy Verna's cassava pie. While I was lying on the couch waiting for Steve, the small living room had quickly filled with more visitors. Most were neighbours who lived in the same apartment building while some were family members. Others just seemed to be people who knew from past years that they could come to apartment 211 and receive a hot meal and share the Christmas spirit with others. "Now Henry, you know how I feel about you eating with that hat on your head,'' Verna reprimanded half jokingly to another poor gentleman who she was handing a plate of Christmas dinner to. "Sorry Verna,'' he replied sheepishly, removing his hat as he accepted the plate and went looking for a place to sit. It was not long after the little room was packed with people sitting wherever they could, eating and laughing. The Christmas music had been turned up, but still struggled to be heard over the many voices and laughter.

People were overflowing into the kitchen and the hallway as the living room was becoming increasingly full. I had curled up in one corner of the couch to allow for sitting room, and was overwhelmed by the concern for my welfare by total strangers as the details of my accident became the hot topic of conversation. Normally at this time, I would have been sitting down to a formal dinner table, set with fancy plate settings in elegant crystal or china. Expensive gifts would be exchanged after being retrieved from a perfectly-trimmed Pine tree decorated with matching ornaments. The house would be decorated for Christmas with the same seriousness and the conversation at the dinner table would barely make a whisper. The whole setting was so formal that no one would have guessed that we were one family sitting at that table every year. It was a complete contradiction to the atmosphere I was sitting in at that moment. Everyone was happy and grateful to be together for another year and actually appeared to be one family when they were not. Even though there were none of the fancy Christmas accessories, I actually found myself enjoying the evening and, for the first time since I was a child, remembering how Christmas used to make me feel. Everyone watched as Verna and her family opened their presents, and even though they were few, the thoughts and love behind them seemed to mean everything. The little girl was ecstatic to get a brand new Barbie doll that had not been placed under the tree, but strategically hidden by her brother as a surprise. Verna was shocked to receive the lovely new dress from her son and had to be talked out of wearing it immediately. And her son was just as surprised to receive the new tool kit from his mom. Each present had been carefully selected and I knew that the trio had worked very hard to be able to afford to give them. Steve arrived just as the little girl was being escorted off to bed and I was finishing my second helping of Verna's world-famous cassava pie. Steve was helping me off the couch and to my feet when Steven said: "If you can come back in a few days, I know I can get that bike working again good as new,'' he offered politely. "You don't have to go through all that trouble. I'm sure I can arrange for someone to pick it up and get it repaired,'' my Steve announced defensively. "It will be no problem,'' Stephen replied. "Actually, that would be really great,'' I interjected, noting Steve's hesitance, "if you are certain that it wouldn't be a problem.'' "No problem at all,'' Stephen smiled at me knowingly. "Verna, I have something that I'd like you to have,'' I continued as I turned toward her handing her the gift box. A surprised Verna accepted the box under protest of how she couldn't take it. "I think it's contents would be better appreciated by you,'' I said in an attempt to convince her to accept it and to divert attention away from Steve's shocked face. "It's lovely, just lovely,'' she squealed with delight after she had opened the box. "Thank you for everything,'' I said quietly. "I'll never be able to repay you for your kindness and for restoring my faith in Christmas.'' "I have wrapped up a piece of my cassava pie for you to take with you,'' she advised, handing me a foil-wrapped package. "And we'll see you again when you come and get your bike,'' she insisted. "Have a good Christmas and take care of yourself,'' she continued as we made our way out the door. As Steve helped me hobble down the stairs toward the street and the car, he quietly asked, "How are you feeling?'' "I'm a little sore but I feel great,'' I replied cryptically. "Well it's too bad you had to miss out on the family dinner,'' he said, almost sympathetically. "Actually Steve, I'm not the one who missed out,'' I responded with a smile. PHOTO Lisa J. Barnes Computer graphic by Sarah Cox, age 11 Computer graphic by Kelli Nusum, age 11 Computer graphic by Ashley Kirkpatrick, age 12 Computer graphic by Primary Seven student, Nicole Wilkinson