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The
house was filled with the spirit of Christmas
and tantalizing holiday fragrances as Dad
struggled to maneuver the nine-foot fir tree
through the door. Mom was grabbing branches in
an effort to protect them while peering through
them making sure the kids were out of harms way.
The ritual had been the same for many
years but this tree trimming party was going to
be different.
The
rest of the house was already profusely
decorated for the season. There were plush red
velvet bows hanging from the mantle which was
banked with lush green magnolia leaves with
pyracantha berries interspersed through out in
anticipation of the stockings that would hang
there. Candles were in the front windows and a
welcoming wreath had been hung on the door. The
tree was the last major decorating project.
The
older of the two was Cindy and at eleven she was
trying to remain aloof to the excitement. She
really felt she was too old for all this holiday
make-believe. Oh, she still enjoyed Christmas;
she just didn't get quite as excited as she used
to.
On
the other hand, her brother Frank was only four
and a half and he had enough excitement in him
for at least two children. It was a major task
to keep him from getting lost in the branches,
as the tree was finally set upright in the
stand. Every
year it was the same. Dad would give a mighty
heave to set the tree straight and a scratch
could be heard as the tip of the tree traveled
across the ceiling leaving a telltale mark of
tar. The marks were numerous now because no one
wanted their memory painted over.
For
years Mom had wanted to decorate the house using
the tiny white lights that had become so popular
in their neighborhood. Likewise, for years the
kids had insisted on using the tiny
multi-colored twinkle lights.
There were hundreds of them carefully
rolled up and stored in a box. Dad was always
the one to put the lights on the tree each year
and he was also the one to remove them. Mom
would carefully unwrap each ornament and give it
to the kids to hang in its own special place on
the tree.
Of
course, Frank could hardly wait to begin hanging
his ornaments.
At least once every five minutes he
wanted to know when he could hang his first
ornament. Finally, in a voice that was stern
enough to be listened to, Mom had finally told
him to have a seat and watch Dad. He would be
told when it was time to hang ornaments.
Poor
Frank. With a downtrodden face he slumped into a
chair and remained very quite.
In fact, he was much too quite. Everyone
was so caught up in the festivities it was
presumed that he was simply pouting.
After
satisfying himself that the tree was seated
firmly into the tree stand and that it was
standing straight he told Mom to get him the
lights. Instead
of going to the box that held the multi-colored
lights, she opened a new box of lights and Dad
began to string them on the tree.
In
order to know where to place the bulbs, the
string was plugged in. Everyone was amazed to
see that the lights beamed a brilliant white.
There was no color to them at all. There was an
obvious look of disappointment on Dad's face as
he meticulously attached each light. Cindy had
long since lost interest and was on the phone
with one of her friends. Frank just sat in his
chair and stared in disbelief.
Mom
seemed to be the only one who was delighted with
the color change on the tree. The more lights
went on the more she babbled about how everyone
would be able to see all the pretty ornaments
this year.
Finally,
Dad was placing the last string of lights on the
grass green tree. He stood back and commented
that it looked like it was on fire because it
was so bright. A sniff was heard coming from
Frank's chair. Fearing that he was getting sick
Mom looked at him and was shocked at what she
saw.
Frank
still sat very still and quiet just as he had
been instructed. His sad eyes were staring at
the Christmas tree with a look of total
disbelief and pained disappointment. Tears were
silently sliding down his cheeks.
The
tree trimming came to an abrupt halt as everyone
inquired why Frank was in tears. Finally he
could hold back no longer and with a loud wail
that was followed by a gush of tears he cried,
"Santa won't come see me this year!"
Fearing
the worst, both Mom and Dad tried to reassure
him that Santa came to see all good little boys
and girls. Frank took no comfort in that. He
continued to bawl like a lost calf. Again Mom
tried to offer comfort by telling him that Santa
always came to see all four-year-olds. Frank
bawled on.
Finally
in exasperation, Dad asked Frank why Santa
wouldn't come see him. Amid sniffs and snubs of
tears Frank poured out his heart.
"Santa
won't come see me cause he won't know that's my
tree. He will take all my toys back to the North
Pole cause he can't find me. He KNOWS my tree
has colored lights on it. If he sees this tree
he will think I'm not here and he won't stop and
leave me anything!"
Without
a word, Dad turned to the tree and began taking
the white lights off the tree. Carefully he
placed them back in their boxes. When the tree
was again bare he opened the box that held the
colored lights. Around and around the tree he
worked until it was brightly aglow with hundreds
of twinkling multi-colored lights.
Looking
from the tree to Frank it was hard to say which
was twinkling with more glee, the tree or
Frank's eyes. Excitedly, he began to race back
and forth from his mom, who gave him ornaments,
to the tree where he hung every one of his
favorites front and center.
Santa
was coming to see Frank, that was certain,
because there was no mistaking that his tree was
lighting the way.
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A
short story written for your enjoyment
by Rose Abrams
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