December brings childhood memories of stockings hung behind an open-face heater in absence of a fireplace. Chocolate drops and ribbon candy. The aroma of baking pies. A diary filled with handsome boys, elite schools, sports cars, and fabulous careers. None materialized as I imagined. I discarded the diary and continued to dream. At retirement, I awakened the hibernating writer in me to co-author a memoir of childhood stories—the first step to multiple publications. Hold tight to your childhood memories. They make dreams come true!