Editor’s note: We asked readers and staff to share their favorite Christmas memories. Today, “My Best Christmas Story”: Secret gifts and a heart-tugging wish.

A little boy’s wish

During early fall of 2005, my son was stricken with a severe chronic medical condition. Despite early treatment, he became very ill and required hospitalization. Upon arrival, the doctors informed my husband and me that he would likely be spending at least 10 days there. Well, 10 turned into 89 days, which took us into the middle of December.

Meanwhile, a good friend confided in me that her son had just produced his Christmas wish list. Although his list was short, one of his wishes was for my son to be able to come home to be with the rest of our family during the holidays. How thoughtful, caring and compassionate of this young man to have written this to Santa. The doctors had just told us that it was a great possibility that our son would indeed be coming home in time for Christmas.

I wrote a “Santa” letter to my friend’s child explaining that although I could not promise all the wishes he had on his list, I told him how proud, as Santa, that he included such a wish, and that this particular one would be granted.

My son came home for Christmas!

— Nancy A. Lavallee, Lisbon

And a partridge through the plate glass

Sitting down to breakfast on Christmas morning was always a tradition growing up. My brothers and sister, Mom and I would sit at the table while Dad made French toast. However, one Christmas morning was different. The sound of breaking glass in our parents’ bedroom was loud and grabbed all of our attention. We knew something was up when Mom went into the bedroom and then called for my father and told us to stay in the kitchen. We, of course, ignored the directive and followed Dad into the bedroom where we came upon a sight that will forever be in our minds: a partridge through the plate-glass window. Our neighbor came by and took care of the bird (Christmas dinner, perhaps) and we now had a new holiday memory to share every year.

— Kellie Morris, Auburn

Kicking up her heels

I remember that Christmas well, not the year, but what made it special to me. My older sister had been visiting grandparents in Connecticut but had made it home for Christmas. My brother was in the Army, so he couldn’t come home, but our little sister was there, jumping up and down, waiting — patiently? No, but waiting.

We had dinner and did the dishes, that was the rule. Then we got to go in our living room and that beautiful tree just waiting with presents. Daddy, of course, was Santa and called off the names and who the present was from so you could thank them. Little sister delivered them.

“Oh, look,” said Mom. “There’s one more box way in the back of the tree.”

Little sister scrambled to get it and guess what? It was for me, from my big sister. I thanked her and slowly opened the box, and what a surprise — I couldn’t believe it. I looked at her and then at a pair of high-heeled shoes for me, a junior in high school. And they just fit! It took a while to get used to them, but I did. And I thanked my sister over and over for those blue, big-heeled shoes and that Christmas I’ve never forgotten.

— Ruby Austin, Wales

Kitty confidant

There was no wrapping paper or ribbons. He wasn’t even called a Christmas present but for me at age 5 he was the best gift.

“He” was a small kitten called Petey who came to visit with our family just days before Christmas. I didn’t know his visit was a test to see if he would bother my sister’s allergies and believed what I was told: that the owner planned to have so much company over the holidays, there wasn’t room for one small kitten, so we were going to take care of him. Talk about the season of believing!

That cat was half-human, becoming a confidant, friend and protector throughout my school years. He died at age 16, shortly after Christmas when I was a senior in college. For his life, I am grateful.

The past few years Christmas in my family has been overshadowed with sickness. Gifts were not important as parents and a sister each faced heart operations and cancer. For the blessing of their recuperating to enjoy Christmas this year, I am grateful.

Presents are nice, but for me the best gift is the reason we celebrate Christmas. For the birth and promises of my Lord, I am forever grateful.

— Ann Bryant, staff writer

Pinned

My most memorable is the year I put up my tree, decorated it and as I slid it into the corner, it tipped over on top of me. Knowing my son was on his way home for lunch, I chose to lie there and wait as to not disrupt my tree. My son came into the house and stood there laughing, said I looked like the wicked witch stuck under the house. Thank goodness there were no cell phones with cameras then. This story means so much more now. That son recently passed away in a tragic car accident; I can’t bear to take that tree out. Maybe next year.

— Irene St. Pierre, Lewiston

Under wraps

It was the Christmas of 1996 that would be the most memorable to my husband and myself. As our four children unwrapped their gifts, I made sure they did not touch a certain large one. When I finally put it in front of them, I stated that they’d need to step back when the cover came off. Whatever was in there was going to jump out at them. My oldest son was so excited; he kept saying, “Be a dog, be a dog!”

The cover came off and they watched a helium Mickey Mouse balloon float slowly to the ceiling. There was a string with a note attached, which read as follows, “Make sure you read everything carefully.” On the balloon I had written, “We’re going to Disney World during spring vacation.” There were brochures for Disney plus we had gotten six matching Mickey Mouse T-shirts. My husband and I had secretly planned that trip for the entire year before Christmas. The looks on their faces and the sound of their voices were my Kodak moment. I won’t ever forget it.

— Catherine Welch, Fayette

Um, oops

I don’t remember how old I was, but I was on the verge of realizing that Santa was not real. I wanted to believe, but was questioning. How was it confirmed to me that Mom and Dad were Santa and had been playing the role superbly for all those years? When Lincoln Gordon, the strongest, larger-than-life man, my father, told me on Christmas morning that he had had fun playing with my silly putty on Christmas Eve. That same silly putty had been given to me by Santa in my stocking! We talked about this for decades together, enjoying a laugh and great memory.

— Deborah Heffernan, Auburn, Maine

Coming tomorrow: Your biggest Christmas flops.