filled Front and Reid streets welcoming locals and foreigners to the holiday.

In the air I could smell the aroma of pine from the neatly decorated trees.

The horses and carriages had green and red ribbons tied to the horses saddles and carriages.

The streets were filled with people doing their last minute Christmas shopping on a Friday night.

I, Marie and the rest of my family -- my sisters Lelia and Sandra and my mother Gail -- were busy decorating our Christmas Tree with home-made decorations and tinsel.

My father Mark Garcia, is in the Azores searching for a job.

It all began about two months ago when my father's work permit needed to be renewed.

There was a lot of tension in the house and everyday I kept checking in the mailbox for the letter, and it never turned up.

On Friday the thirteenth I felt something was going to happen, partly because of superstition and partly because my stomach started to hurt.

When I got home my dad was in the living room upset. My two sisters and mother were in the living room as well.

My father told me to sit down because he had something to tell me. Tears were dripping from his eyes he handed me a letter.

It was from Immigration saying they could not renew my father's work permit.

I left the room like a bull in a china shop. Many questions were going through my mind such as; "How could they do this? What kind of people are they? What is going to happen to my family?''.

My father explained to me and my sisters about how we are going to cope with this. The only solution to keep my family together was to move to the Azores.

"Dad, even though we have a Bermudian birth certificate and a British Passport, have we nothing to do with the Bermudian society? "I have lived and breathed the same air as some of my local friends.

"Is it a crime to have Portuguese relatives? "Some of my friends have relatives from Germany and Ireland but yet they don't have to pack up and leave.'' I was shouting and screaming to my father to try and let out some anger, but no matter what I do or say everything will still be the same.

"Marie, please understand this isn't your fault or anyone else's, but just reality and we will have to face it one day or the other,'' he said.

At school the next day my teacher talked to my class about employment in Bermuda and the downfall in work permits.

He said we are destroying ourselves more and more everyday.

We have just started recycling which is good, but it could have been done a long time ago.

Bermudians are fighting over petty little things such as the movie Malcolm X which is just wasting time.

We need to worry about bigger problems such as the way the youth see Bermuda in a few years time and what will they do to improve it.

My teacher really opened up my eyes when he said in twenty to thirty years time people living in Devonshire will be damaged by the fumes caused by the new incinerator.

Next was history class and we talked about Bermuda and the first settlers.

Apparently, Portuguese were shipped to Bermuda specifically to work in vegetation.

This may sound a little biased but I feel Portuguese are the best at working with the environment as far as vegetation goes.

I feel they used us until there was no need for us anymore. This stayed in my mind all night and I cried myself to sleep.

Thank God it was only a week to Christmas and school was out.

My mother, sisters and I went to take my father to the airport.

He had to go to the Azores so he could find a job. He would stay with my grandparents.

My father explained to me and my sisters that we will have to learn to write Portuguese since we only know how to speak it.

I feel it's unfair for us to have to leave Bermuda where we were born.

It was a teary moment for my family when my father boarded the aeroplane because whether or not he got the job would determine our future.

He had an open ticket because he didn't know when he was coming back.

"Bye, honey I'll miss you,'' my mother said.

"Bye everyone, I'll be back soon,'' my father said sadly.

We walked to the car like sticks, not knowing what to say.

It was the day before Christmas and we hadn't heard a word from my father yet.

The Christmas Tree was lit every night to try and boost everyone's Christmas spirit but it didn't work.

There were a few presents under the tree covering its pot.

I wasn't expecting anything for Christmas except for my father to be rehired in Bermuda.

I guess I was thinking a little unrealistically.

All I was hoping for then was for my father to come back with a job which could support us.

At home everyone was fast asleep in dreamland. No one had asked for anything for Christmas except my little sister who wanted a doll which drinks milk from a bottle.

"Ho, Ho, Ho Merry Christmas!'' I jumped out of my bed waking everyone just because I thought I heard Santa Claus.

Was I dreaming? Is there really a Santa Claus? Everyone followed me into the living room to see what the noise was.

The Christmas Tree had presents filling the whole floor all different shapes and sizes.

To our surprise, standing in the room was my father with a big grin on his face.

Everyone went to greet him with hugs and kisses. I believed there really was a Santa Claus since my father came home for Christmas.

We had a Christmas Dinner with turkey, ham, vegetables and the traditional Farine Pie.

This was going to be our last Christmas in Bermuda and we had to make it the best.

We opened up the numerous amounts of presents and received gifts such as toys, games, clothes, and books.

My grandparents called and we wished them a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. And when we were all content we went to bed.

Packing wasn't the easiest thing to do because memories kept flashing before my eyes.

We stood outside our house and took a picture for the last time and drove to the airport.

As we boarded the plane tears came to everyone's eyes. We looked out of the window and waved to the people and blew kisses.

I breathed the Bermuda air for the last time and said good bye quietly to myself as I left my home.

SHORT STORY COMPETITION CPN