When I was ten, my sisters and I were amazed at our neighbor's Christmas tree. We returned home from their house and decided that we must have one of our own. In our house we never had enough money for a Christmas tree. In fact, we insisted so much that my father had no choice but to agree. "Yes!" he finally said."This year we will have a Christmas tree." Our mouths dropped open at the thought of having our own tree. Then Dad said,"I'll do it myself." We followed him around the house as he gathered up the materials he would need, We all sat close to him, carefully watching everything he did. He passed the thread around the first nail on the corner of a box, then back down to the second nail on the box, and up again to the nail, until right there before our eyes a green Christmas tree began to take shape. He carefully did the same with all of the 50 nails in the box and when he had finished, he said,"Now you can decorate it." I don't remember where the _ came from, but they were red and small and to us they just looked so beautiful and perfect for our tree. When we finished decorating it, we proudly invited all our friends over to see our Christmas tree. We were so happy, not only because it looked so pretty, but because my father had made it himself. It truly was the most beautiful Christmas tree we had ever seen. Years later, things got better and Dad was able to buy a proper Christmas tree which we would happily decorate. However, my sisters and I will never forget the night when we got our first Christmas tree. What do we know about the writer?
She had no friends at school. She never went to her neighbor's home. She lived a hard life when she was young. She seldom saw beautiful green trees.