It was the day before Christmas, nineteen forty-six, in the stump of the bombed out city of Munich, Germany. Ten year old Anna was being rudely shaken awake by her mother.

"It's already five thirty, you have to get in line for the rolls."

Bread, along with everything else, was in short supply. Food was in short supply and along with many other items were rationed. But ration stamps alone were not enough to acquire the needed food. In the case of bread, a pound of unbleached flour was demanded by the baker for every ten rolls. Anna quickly dressed, stuffing her feet into too-small shoes. Outside, the temperature hovered just above freezing as she made the first tracks in the overnight snow.

Three blocks away at the baker a line had already formed. Shuffling to keep warm, Anna waited for the lights to come on in the store. A couple of adults roughly jammed their way in front of her, making up some story of how they were here first. Afraid to lose her place in line altogether, Anna gave them a dirty look and turned her back. Finally it was her turn. Presenting her clipped out ration stamps and the double-wrapped pound of flour, she was confronted with a stony-faced woman placing a sign on the counter that said, "No more bread". Desperately Anna tried to argue her plight, but the woman just told her to try again another day.

Not knowing what else to do, she retraced her steps home, fearful of her mother's wrath. Well, at least she still had the stamps and the package of flour. At home her mother screamed how useless she was and for her to find another bakery and get those rolls, adding the ultimatum, "And don't bother coming back without them!"

The next closest bakery was even further away. The sky had lightened but the clouds remained a low, dark omen of more snow. By now, Anna's thin socks left bloody spots in the snow from cracks opening up in her bare toes. Arriving at the alternate bakery, she spied the empty cases and papered shelves. Bread smells were coming from the back, but there was not a roll in sight. Finally, the owner came out, only to tell Anna that all the bread baked today would be needed for the hospital. He gave her the address of another bakery deeper into the city that might have some rolls left from the day before.

Afraid to come home without rolls, Anna aimed her poor hurting feet further away from home. Tired and hungry, even the token Christmas decorations in the windows failed to cheer her up. Keeping away from gangs of foraging teenagers, she clutched at the lump of flour under her coat. Twice more she got the same message from the bakers -- all the bread was gone. Admitting defeat, she plodded home in the early dark to a certain punishment for failing her mission.

Her last hope was only slightly out of the way. Nearing her church, she approached the last bakery on her list. A woman came out of the bakery and asked her what was wrong. Between sobs, Anna told her the whole story, adding that she couldn't go home without some bread. The woman rose her up off the ground, saying, "Don't cry, I'll take your flour and ration stamps and give you my rolls. You need them more than I."

Jubilant, but too tired to enjoy it, Anna raced home with her prize. At home, Anna placed the rolls on the table. Her mother glared at them with a critical eye. "This is what you bring home for my beautiful flour?", she ranted. "Just for that, get outside and clean the step, somebody might fall on the ice." Frustrated and angry, her mother could find no sympathy for Anna, the chore of surviving in an unfair world bringing bitterness and harsh words on her desolate daughter. The space in Anna's heart where the joy of Christmas should have been was as empty as the bakery shelves.

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