Here's the journaling:
The first Christmas I remember was in 1961, in Las Vegas. I was 2 1/2 years old. I remember waking up and running down the hall and finding my dad already up. He was excited to see me. It was Christmas day! My mom was still sleeping.
There by the tree was this a small blue and white rocking chair, just my size. I was so excited about it. There was also a blue fuzzy robe that was so soft. My dad was showing me the presents and was so excited and so sweet to me.
I could feel his love for me. I knew there was something special about this day. It was all so wonderful and unexpected--I was too little to anticipate it.
Later, my mom or dad took the rocking chair outside and took my picture
sitting in it. (That was in the days before flash photography at home.)
I love this story. Especially how it explains the picture of you in your rocking chair outside. I mean, nothing beats natural lighting. They clearly knew what they were doing.
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