Someone was burning leaves today. It doesn't happen often. Permits, regulations, rules, all these damn rules. The smoke from burning autumn leaves whisked me through time to another place, another moment, a whole lifetime ago.

I am seven years old. "Anna, come help me get the stable ready." It's my mother's voice from across the years.

"Come on Anna, quit your daydreaming." My mother is lugging the wooden stable that my papa built out from the garage. I run to help her. "Get the straw," she says. She has a kerchief tied around her hair and her cheeks are rosy. My mama is beautiful.

I run for the straw and see she has assembled all the figures by the door. Mary and Joseph are there along with two goats, a bunny, one Wiseman standing by his camel, two shepherds, a cow and the bull. Mary, Joseph and the baby were brought from Russia wrapped in my grandmother's wedding gown. The rest have either been given to us or my papa has found them. There is no money for nativity figures in these hard times. Last year Papa found the beautiful bull that stands beside the stable. He is big, bigger even than the barn. Papa got him when they tore the Steak and Chicken place down. There was a big chicken too, but when they took the roof off the restaurant, the chicken got dropped and his head was smashed.

Mama has the stable set up in front of our other Mary. Papa made a shrine for her out of an old bathtub that Mr. Jackowski was throwing away when he remodeled his bathroom. Mama painted the inside with beautiful, teeny little blue flowers that are the same colour as Mary's dress. I love this Mary.

Papa is bringing the bull out in his wheelbarrow. He grunts when he lifts him into his place beside the stable. He smiles at me and his eyes crinkle up. I love my papa.

"Okay Anna, it's time. Go and get the Baby." I start to cry.

"What is it, Bubbala?" my mama says.

"Oh Mama," I sob. She comes and puts her arms around me.

"What's the matter? Nothing can be so bad as all this."

I hide my face against her. She smells like burning leaves and soap and her hands smell like bleach. I cry even harder.

"Anna, please tell me, what's wrong?" my papa says, touching my hair.

"I broke it. I broke the Baby Jesus."

"Oh Anna," Mama says sadly. "Your grandma brought Him all the way from Russia. You know you aren't allowed to play with these special things."

I cry harder. "I know Mama. I'm sorry."

"Well, go and get him; maybe we can fix him."

"He can't be fixed," I wail. "He's broken into a million pieces."

My mother wipes my eyes with the handkerchief she keeps in her pocket. "It will be all right. We'll get a new Baby Jesus. Lots of people don't put the Baby in the manger until Christmas Eve. It will be okay; you'll see."

"Mama, I've been praying every day to the Blessed Virgin to get us a new Baby Jesus."

"Sometimes these things take time. She has lots on her mind at this time of year. I'm sure she has heard you though," Papa says.

"Come, let's go in the house and have some cookies. I feel like some tea," Mama says putting her arms around Papa. I watch her look at him and there are tears shining on her lashes.

"I'll be in, in a minute," I say. I cross myself and look into Mary's eyes. "Please."

I go inside and smell my house. Cookies, frying onions, bleach. Mama comes and hugs me and kisses me on both cheeks. "It will be fine. Don't worry."

The next morning when I leave for school, I check the manger but Baby Jesus isn't there yet. Christmas gets closer. The manger stays empty. Every morning I check and every evening I check. Not yet.

On Christmas Eve my mama and two of her friends must go to clean the church. "Anna, would you like to come?"

"Yes," I say. I love to go and visit with her friends while they clean. Maria always sings. Usually one of them brings me some candy. Today there is no laughing; this is serious business. The church must be spotless for midnight mass. I sit very still and let the coloured light from the windows shine on me. When we go outside it has started to snow.

"It will be a white Christmas," Mama says.

"Can I go out and play?" I ask after we get home.

"Yes, but don't go away. Supper won't be long."